Honor among Thieves
by Chibi-Reaper
Summary: Updated! Enter Annabelle, the half-Dementor. Yeah, you heard right.
1. Chapter 1

Honor among Thieves.

Chapter One

xxxx

Herb was... perhaps not in the best of moods upon disembarking the small fishing dinghy that had been commandeered to bear him across the sea. After all, the journey had been long, the quarters inadequate, and the company infantile. Add that to the necessity of avoiding direct contact with the cold seawater, one could almost call Herb grumpy. Ill tempered perhaps, or annoyed.

Deep breath Herb... in... out... in... out. Yes, that's better. They are your retainers, and perfectly capable at their job. And remember, it was _you_ who specified they be of lackluster intelligence, because they only needed to be imposing, not scholarly.

"Lead on."

Lime and Mint took the lead, thankfully keeping their inane prattle and foolish behavior to themselves, as they had not the intelligence nor the grace to do on their... vessel.

He had not intended to return, truly. He had what he'd come for in Japan, that was the only reason to be here. Certainly there was the little matter of a life-debt to the Saotome... but should he wish to collect he could contact Herb on his own. However...

For the past week, Herb had had a growing... unsettlement. Similar to his danger sense, but not identical. Simply a vague feeling of... unease. Wrongness. The growing sense that something wasn't right.

He didn't know how, but he knew that it was connected to the Saotome in some way. How... that was still uncertain.

xxx

They were plotting something. He knew it.

How?

Simple. It was quiet... far too quiet.

For days now, nothing had happened. Day in, day out he would get up, spar with his father, go to school, come home, spar again, and go to bed. Nothing else.

That alone... it wasn't conclusive. It could simply be that everyone had decided to take a breather all at once. It had happened before, they just took a break until they next saw him. But all of them? For this long? No.

Besides... they'd seen him frequently, and pretended not to. That was what had unnerved him. He had never known them to not start something, with any given chance.

Ryoga... Ranma had been walking home from school and spied him asking people directions. Ryoga's eyes had fallen on him. He'd tensed, and Ranma knew perfectly well that Ryoga had recognized him, despite his current gender, but Ryoga had simply turned away, forced himself to relax, and continued asking passersby directions. Ranma had waited a few minutes and eventually Ryoga had simply walked off, still pretending he hadn't seen her.

Then there was Mousse. That was... unnerving, to say the least. Mousse had done one of his typical glomps for Shampoo and gotten Ranma-chan instead. His glasses had then fallen down, giving him a good look at his catch. Rather than screaming and attacking, as he usually would have, he'd simply frowned, apologized, and left calmly. Freaky.

Kuno had been avoiding him, rather than hunting him down the way he usually did. That in and of itself had been enough to spark suspicion, but Nabiki had noted, for a price, that Kuno had also been unusually quiet in class, not one 'fierce tiger' or 'osage no onna' rant to be heard.

The old lech was off to some swimsuit convention. Nothing unusual there, but the timing was odd. Cologne had also gone back to China to investigate something... apparently her villaged had been robbed of something she considered the retrieval of far more important than subtly 'convincing' Ranma to elope with her great-granddaughter. Probably not important, unless whoever stole it had a grudge against him somehow.

The fiancees had also settled down, though that wasn't so unusual. At times it was weeks between one of Ukyo or Shampoo's crazy schemes to get him either into the sack or in front of the altar. What was odd was that Akane also was just leaving him alone, no mallet, no incandescent rage, not even professing a desire to cook for him. Naturally, the fathers were ecstatic, deciding that they were getting along better, and tried to hold another wedding. Emphasis on tried... they'd caught him exhausted last time, there was no way they would manage it again.

Ranma shivered as he headed for the edge of Nerima, large pack over his shoulder. The fathers hadn't been pleased with his decision to go on a short training trip, no not pleased at all, but all he had to do was mention that he thought his power reserves were growing too fast and he was worried he might not be able to keep all his power contained and Soun was all too happy to send him off until he was sure it was safe. Idiot.

Ranma shrugged his pack off and began setting things up for a camp stew. He'd been walking for a while, and found himself well into a small forested area outside of the city. After around half an hour of peeling and slicing various vegetables and slicing a length of dried meat into the bubbling pot he stood, stretched, and stepped off into the woods to find a place to relieve himself.

As he left, several shadowy figures slipped into the campsite.

"He... He really never noticed we were here."

"What did I tell you? These amulets are perfect. Saotome relies on his danger sense, or locating a particular persons energy signature to find them. These block almost everything off... to him, we were a few squirrels, or rabbits, that just happened not to have noticed him and left yet. Now hurry, he'll be back soon."

The third figure silently withdrew a knife and used it to slice something quickly into the pot. Nodding, they withdrew to the cover of bushes and shadow, settling themselves in to wait. It wasn't long, as withing minutes the pigtailed youth had returned to camp and was now carefully stirring the pot of vegetable stew, not suspecting for a second the malevolent surprise inside.

xxx

Roughly an hour ago, Herb had grown weary of walking and was now flying at a decent clip, his vassals loping just slightly ahead of them. In the distance they could see a small fire burning. A pinprick of flame, slowly growing as they approached. Why Saotome would be away from his woman was uncertain, but Mint assured him he'd smelled no others walking with him. Some people had gone ahead, some people had gone after, the scent trails were all very confusing. The fact that his nose put most four legged beasts, as well as several of the lycanthropic species they'd come across to shame actually made things worse.

For instance, he could stand on the other side of the room, sniff the air once, and know that you woke up this morning by rolling out of bed, sitting up, and running your left hand through your hair. Then you stood up, stretched, and scratched yourself as you yawned. He would also know that you stumbled on the stairs on your way to eat breakfast, consisting of two eggs, lightly poached, a slice of toast with butter, and a slice of cold spinach pizza with half a cup of tea. So forgive him if he sounds slightly uppity, but if he says Saotome was walking this way, alone, then SAOTOME WAS DAMN WELL WALKING THIS WAY! ALONE!

Lime and Mints pauses were far less graceful than Herb, who simply floated down to land before the bemused Saotome. He was bemused, in fact, _because_ of their manner of ceasing movement. They tried to stop, but their momentum proved to much for them and they skidded, rather clumsily and shocked looking, directly into trees. Lime's tree cracked slightly, but remained firm as he toppled backwards, leaving a large imprintation of himself in the bark. He lay unmoving, out cold.

Mint never stood a chance against his immobile opponent.

Herb sighed at his retainers bufoonery, but nodded to the boy he'd come to... to what? He wasn't sure, but couldn't come out and say that. A reason.

"Saotome. I'm here for a rematch."

He nearly cursed at the stupidity of it... he had lost in a fair battle, who would contest that? By custom it would be years yet before a rematch could be considered. Surprisingly though, Saotome simply nodded as though it were a perfectly acceptable reason and went back to stirring the stew. It was at this point that Herb recalled that he hadn't eaten since making landfall that morning, and the scent of whatever was in that pot was making him ravenous.

"Can it wait for morning, Herb? 'Cept it's kinda dark right now. Or can dragons see in the dark?"

Herb made a note to make sure a few stray blasts 'accidentally' headed Saotome's way the next time he began training.

xxx

"What the hell is _he_ doing here? Doesn't he live in China?"

"Yeah... I think he wants a rematch or something."

"Of all the... frankly his timing is terrible. What happens if he..."

"Probably more a question of _when_ than _if_. Look at how he's drooling at that stew."

"Yeah. I know what's in it, and I'm still tempted to have a taste. I hate to admit it, but Saotome can cook."

"..."

"It doesn't matter. His little buddies have kindly removed themselves from the picture. Just treat him as another target."

"Yeah... no witnessess..."

xxx

The stew had been bubbling for some time now, and the aroma of the simple fare was... intoxicating. Maddening. Herb found himself ravenous, despite the humbleness of the fare offered. Ranma thankfully noticed the protestations of his stomach before he had to bring attention to his ravenous hunger and he removed a second bowl from his pack.

"I kinda knew that someone was going to show up and interrupt me. Wouldn't have thought it'd be you. Still, I've only got the two bowls, will, uh, they be alright?"

Herb blinked and glanced at his two retainers who by now were slumbering in the dirt.

"... They will be fine. Also, they eat like ravening beasts... there would be naught left for we two."

Ranma blinked and then sheepishly scratched his head.

"... I think you put too many big words in there... could you say that in smaller words? Please?"

Herb controlled the urge to slap himself in the forehead at Saotome's ignorance. Still, Saotome had defeated him in combat. That earned him a certain measure of respect.

"They have gone without meals before, they will be fine. And besides, they eat like the creatures they are descended from, with little of the manners of their human ancestry. So if they ate, there would be nothing left of your food for the two of us."

Ranma smiled.

"You see? I understood every word of that! Was that so hard?"

"Ignoramus."

"Takes one to know one."

"I refuse to be drawn into such childish bickering. My retainers are more than enough."

"Oh? What do you want to talk about then?"

There was a pause as Herb considered.

"What of our curses?"

"Eh... You mean something like how humiliating it is to randomly change genders, how much you hate the curse in general, and how you would do almost anything to be rid of it?"

"... I was thinking more about our busts."

"...What...?"

"Our busts Saotome. They're large, and admittedly nice to look at, but what are they for?"

"Uh..."

"As far as I can tell, they're just there. They bounce ocassionally, and jiggle every so often, but what are they there for?"

"Uh... can we... change the subject please?"

"... Very well. I have also noticed that our buttocks are rounder and our hips tend to sway more when we walk."

"They do not!"

"Yes they do. Well... not at first, but after a while I discovered that it was more comfortable to walk that way in the female form."

"It is? I mean... can we talk about something else."

"... All right. I have noticed that our thighs..."

"ALL RIGHT OK! Lets just eat..."

Herb shrugged but wasted no time in filling his bowl with the excellent stew. For a moment, there was only the sound of the two, eating.

xxx

"Whats wrong... why isn't it working."

"Be patient. They were not intended to be cooked. Trust me... They'll kick in soon enough."

"The problem is the dragon. We can't use the moxibustion on him... his body is put together slightly differently from normal humans."

"Doesn't matter. Once Saotome's out of the way, we're more than enough to overpower a..."

"Ten."

"Ten? I thought it would be more like six or seven."

"Forgot and left them growing too long. Ten was the shortest one there."

"Huh. Well we can still overpower a ten year old. Dragon blood or not."

"He won't be used to the body. He'll have a lot of power to throw around, but in a child-state he shouldn't be able to use it effectively. Remember Saffron?"

"Shush... I think the dragon's catching on that somethings wrong. Keep quiet, or he'll hear you! These amulets aren't quite perfected."

xxx

Herb savored the rustic, yet pleasing flavor, trying to discern just where that odd aftertaste was coming from. Ranma simply scarfed down as much as he could, using the bowl to hide the light flush he'd gained from their previous conversation.

"So, uh... I gather you don't hate your curse nearly as much as I do."

"What would be the point, Saotome? I'll never be rid of it."

"Wh...? Never? What about the Nanniichuan?"

"Drowned man spring? You can't use a curse to cure a curse. They'll combine."

Ranma turned slightly green, even while looking like his dreams had been shattered. Several unnoticed shadowy figures also turned green when they recalled the way they'd been fighting over what they'd _thought_ was a cure.

"Com-combine..."

"You didn't know?"

Ranma barely supressed his stomach as Herb shrugged and took another bowlful of stew.

"This is rather plain fare, but quite good. An odd aftertaste, but the mushrooms are a nice touch."

Ranma paused and suddenly paled as he tried to remember what he'd put in the stew. Mushrooms weren't on the list.

"Mushrooms?"

"Indeed. They're very tasty, my compliments."

"No, you don't get it. _I didn't put any mushrooms in the stew_!"

Herb's eyes widened as the feeling of wrongness reached a crescendo and he knew he'd made a terrible mistake.

"Saotome, what... You're shrinking!"

"So are you!"

Only then did the shadowy figures outside the reach of the firelight remove their amulets, broadcasting their hatred and malevolence to all that knew what to look for.

Ranma tried to fight them off, but while he had regressed, the size of his clothes had remained the same, hindering his mobility quite a bit. It was only a matter of time before they managed to pin him down and the shortest one pressed a spot on his back that seemed to burn. Suddenly his frantic attempts to escape seemed much more feeble. Herb fought valiantly, holding his own for a time, but once Ranma went down he was swamped.

"What... what the hell are you..."

One of the disguised figures kicked Ranma gently in the jaw. He flew through the air and slammed into a tree.

"Surprised Saotome? Maybe not. You knew something was up, you've known for days. It's just that you're so foolishly naive that you decided that it didn't matter, isn't it?"

The short figure stepped forward, tossing the injured boy back next to the draconic child, who'd been wrapped with a length of chain.

"How ironic that _you_ would be here... princess Herb."

Herb growled, trying not to think of exactly how irony fit into this scenario.

"Heh. I see you don't understand. The water."

One of the masked figures stepped behind a tree, coming back out with a bucket of water that he was _very_ careful not to spill, or even splash around too much. Herb was horrorstruck. He had made a few deals with the amazon Matriarch, one of them including the gift of several gallons of Permamence Water.

"No..."

"Oh yes little dragonling... Hmm. Saotome seems a bit out of it. You know what the only way to make him wake up is?"

The figure took the bowl Ranma had been using, scrupulously licked clean, and scooped out some water from the bucket, carefully avoiding contact with the liquid, before pouring it over the boy... no, girl now. Herb cursed under his breath. He had destroyed the ladle to make permamence water himself, but the kettle... He had set it in a treasury. The treasury had collapsed inward. They'd cleared it back out but the kettle had been shattered, its magic gone.

He began thrashing wildly as the figure dipped another bowl out of the bucket and Saotome began to moan weakly, her jaw obviously broken. Somehow he could tell the man under the mask was smirking as he poured the water over his.. her head.

She snarled viciously at them.

"D-damn you... bastards..."

"It's your fault... Your own poor timing brought this upon you."

He turned to look at Lime and Mint, who were still unmoving.

"They didn't see anything... but now that I think about it their other senses could prove most vexing. But we have ways around these things."

Herb was confused when he reached into his baggy, concealing clothes, only to withdraw a packet of powder. After she realized what it was though, and it was mixed into the magic water, she was horrorstruck.

"One-use magic curse powder. Some sort of rodent. Very useful for spying on someone if you have a partner to cancel the curse. With permamence water it becomes irrevocable."

He chuckled darkly as he carefully hurled the water at the two unconsious retainers. Herb trembled with barely contained rage as people he'd known since children shrank down into into their clothes until the folds of the cloth hid them.

"I do hope they manage to wake soon... it would be such a shame for an owl or serpent to happen across them in their sleep."

Herb ground her teeth together, glancing down at Saotome and grimacing. Her eyes were open, but she obviously had a concussion. One pupil had shrunk to the size of a pinprick, and the other had dilated further than she believed it was capable of.

"Bastard... You better make sure I'm dead then, because if I live through whatever you're plotting I'll hunt you down like the dog you are. Your death will be painful, of that I assure you."

"Heh... Like to talk, don't you? Don't worry, we won't be killing you. Or Saotome, much as he may deserve it. Look at this... this gemstone. Beautiful, isn't it? And one of a kind, heavily enchanted. Cursed. The Amazons use this to make people dangerous to them, but too powerful, politically or otherwise, for there to be the chance of a body turning up... disappear. How ironic that it will be used not only on one they want so badly, but one of their enemies. Don't look so shocked. You have a peace treaty with them for now, but you still qualify as an enemy. Before you leave... someone has something they want to say to you Saotome."

One of the shadowy figures stepped forward, removing her mask. Herb was momentarily shocked out of her rage. Saotome's woman? The sneer on her face and the swift kick to the ribs was sufficient to return her rage, however.

"That was for being an idiot Ranma. All this time... and you could never tell how much I hated you. Did you really think my food was that terrible? I was trying to kill you, idiot. If your stomach wasn't so tough, or your neck was just a little more brittle, then you'd be long dead. Do you know just how many times that I've cracked your vertebrae and had to act like a scared, shocked, innocent little waif because you wouldn't do the favor of simply _dying_ like you were supposed to?"

"A... Akane..."

"... Humph. I'd kill you now if it weren't that this way leaves no tracks."

Ranma slumped, eyes... broken, for lack of a better term. Herb grimaced as she wondered how this betrayal would affect her... if they lived through it.

"Ah well... You've said your goodbyes, now it's time for us to remove the eternal thorn in our sides that you present. Goodbye, Saotome."

The genmstone seemed to glow with an eerie light.

xxx

Harry stumbled slightly, but got up and continued running. His tenth birthday had been today, and his dear cousin Dudley had decided to resurrect an old tradition, just for him.

Birthday licks.

Well, with this being his tenth birthday, that makes ten licks. Oh and of course Piers, Dudley's best friend, simply _couldn't_ be left out of the celebration. Then of course there were a couple of Piers' friends, and a couple of their friends...

In short, he was fleeing a mob of angry teenagers.

When two people suddenly shimmered into view, he couldn't help but dart for them in the vain hope that they would help, despite the fact that one looked ill, and, as he drew closer, that they were girls. Still, hope springs eternal, and he was about to fall over from exhaustion anyway.

"Please... help me..."

The girl with multi-colored hair arched an eyebrow, as the sick... No, he suddenly realized, she was _hurt_, the hurt red-head just wobbled in place and glanced around dazedly.

"Oh? What's in it for me?"

Harry blinked. He'd actually expected her to just take one look at the mob currently hurtling down the street towards them and leave him to their tender mercies.

"Anything, I'll do anything! Just don't let them get me."

A light smirk crossed her features.

"Anything? Little fool. I could make your life quite difficult with such a promise were I inclined. Fortunately for you, I am not interested in making your life miserable."

She sneered at the mob, who had stopped several feet away, muttering.

"Leave. Now."

Dudley slowly sauntered out of the crowd, smirking.

"I don't think so. We still have to give him his little birthday gift."

She blurred, and suddenly she was standing next to Dudley, easily lifting him into the air with a single hand before tossing him easily into the thickest of the crowd.

"Perhaps you didn't hear me, vermin. Leave. NOW!"

The crowd rapidly scattered, leaving Dudley to fend for himself. His significant girth made it more difficult for him to rise to his feet and waddle away as fast as he could. She smirked after his retreating form, before turning and looking speculatively at the boy, who had collapsed, gasping for breath. She waited for his breath to slow and become regular before speaking again.

"Get up boy... Give Saotome a hand and follow me."

Herb nodded as Harry got up and propped himself under Ranma's shoulder, as she sagged with evident relief at someone to lean on. Poor bastard. Herb wasn't sure what the effects of that pressure point had been, but from the way they were suddenly kicking her around she could guess. She mentally noted that she was adjusting easily to thinking of herself in the feminine before dismissing the thought. To a dragon, such things as that mattered only in mating season.

The problem was, with not only the pressure point to deal with, but the locking of her curse and the betrayal of the Tendo wench to deal with, Herb was uncertain if he wouldn't look away and turn back to find Saotome'd slit her wrists.

She grimaced as she headed for what appeared to be an apartment complex nearby. She hoped that she could recall how to sneak in and out of buildings, because she knew for a fact that she didn't have anywhere near enough money to pay for an apartment. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but with Saotome muddled and dazed, and the dead weight the boy represented...

She wondered instead, just where they were. Everyone they'd met had spoken and understood English... thank god for the foreign language tutors that a certain princeling had so despised once... and that pointed for somewhere in Europe or the Americas. But... it couldn't be that simple. The Amazons used that thing to get rid of people... that meant that not once, in its entire history, had anyone ever come back after having that thing used on them. No matter appearances, that thing was packing far more power than it should, if it had only sent them to the other side of the earth.

She paused and idly scanned the building before her. One entrance in the front, an alley going around the side and to the back, where presumably there was another, more difficult to pass door. An old, rusty fire escape sprialing down the side, out of easy view of passerby. There we go.

Herb paced into the alleyway, followed hesitantly by the confused boy.

"Hey... aren't you going to check in?"

Herb ignored him as she considered how to do this. No flying, obviously. Way too much chance of being seen and then being put in some tabloid. So... wall jumping then, if he threw them, the boy might be fine, but Saotome would definitely be injured. The boy seemed about to scream from shock and surprise when Herb snatched him and Ranma under her arms, but gaped from shock as she jumped at the wall, rebounding off of it to land quietly on the lowest section of the fire escape stairwell.

"What... what are you?"

Herb arched an eyebrow at the impressionable, naive little boy and smirked. Turning, she calmly paced up the metal stairs, keeping her footfalls quiet, the boy helping Ranma hobble up the stairs right behind her. After a minute they were at the top and Herb was inspecting the door from the roof. Snorting she stepped back. Locked. Of course it was locked. Perhaps she could break it down from the outside, but it would be noisy enough for anyone on the top few floors to hear. Of course...

"Saotome... you have a habit of pulling useful tricks out of your sleeves at the most opportune of times. Do you know how to get through a locked door without destroying it?"

Ranma's eyes still seemed a little lifeless, but a spark came back into their depths when she was asked to do something. That could be a good or a bad thing.

"Gimme... a pin. Needle... something long... thin... sturdy..."

Herb glanced around... there. A scrap of metal... probably from a broken pipe or something... that nobody had bothered to pick up. She did, and with a few pinches and twists the thin metal had been modified into an ugly, but long, pin. Ranma took it without question, muttering to herself as she began fiddling around with the lock.

"Anything goes... invented by a pervert... improved upon by a thief... the higher techniques actually based on styles of burglary... honor... whatever... just don't care anymore. Screw you pops... 'Kane..."

The lock clicked, loudly, and the door swung open.

xxx

Ranma floated through the darkness of dreaming. Betrayed. His closest friends, people who he saw every day, had betrayed him. Granted, he saw most of them every day because they were each, in their own inept and pathetic way, trying to kill or otherwise eliminate him, but still it was a blow that they had actually managed to band together and do it.

How had they done it? He didn't really know... he grimaced and looked down at his body. Now hers. Locked. The bastards hadn't even had the decency to let him die male. Die... No, they hadn't even had the guts to kill him when they had the chance. He'd make them pay for that.

For a moment he managed to hold on to that thought, but even in dreams reality was swift in crushing him. They hadn't had to kill him because nobody had ever come back from whereever they'd sent him. And even if he could get back, what could a ten year old _girl_ with the weakness moxibustion do to a group of powerful, trained martial artists. If he ever showed his face in Nerima again, if he could even get back to Nerima, they'd kill him for good. He...

He. That was a problem right there. He was still thinking of himself as a he. Why? He was a girl now, and he really doubted that there was any way to turn back. Adaptation was a key precept of the Anything Goes school. Even with all of his... _her_ strength locked away, he... _she_ would adapt. She would persevere.

She would find a way. There had to be a way. Her mind began thrashing weakly through the darkness as words began to filter into her mind.

xxx

"You two... you're thieves aren't you."

Herb arched a brow at the boy before her. Rather than the fear implied in that statement, his voice was full of curiosity.

"Oh? What brought you to that conclusion, boy?"

Hah, that did it. Look at his face turn red...

"I have a name. Use it."

Herb waited a moment, then smirked into his glare.

"How would I do that? After all, you haven't introduced yourself yet."

And the flush of anger immediately transformed into the flush of embareassment.

"Er... right. I'm Harry Potter."

Herb arched an eyebrow at him again, as if to say 'why do I care?' before answering.

"So... Harry. What makes you think we're thieves?"

"You didn't even consider paying, just went to the side and... you know. And then, at the top, what did it take her... ten seconds maybe, to pick the lock? What else could you be?"

Herb considered correcting the Potter boy before pausing. They had no money, no food, no real home as someone would soon notice the occupants of this apartment hadn't gone past the front door, and they had no real job skills. Why not. Why not indeed.

"An astute observation. But unimportant. I believe you promised us something, in exchange for our services. If I remember correctly, you promised _anything_ I wanted, did you not?"

Harry gulped, suddenly nervous, trying to think of why. What could he have, that a thief would want.

"You."

Harry's eyes widened.

"In exchange for rescuing you, I will have reimbursement. You belong to me now. You will do what I tell you to do, learn what I teach you, and then... well. We'll see, won't we."

They were interupted by Ranma's pained moans as she sat up from the bed, eyes thankfully almost normal.

"Huuh... Herb. Where?"

Eyes snapped away from her and to the door as a soft knocking rapped on the apartment door. Someone had noticed. Shit. Herb glanced at Ranma, who nodded at an open window. There was a drainpipe next to it. Perfect.

"Lesson one, Harry. Get down that pipe."

"_What!_" he hissed back. "We're on the fifteenth story... we'll fall off and die!"

Herb sneered as Ranma maneuvered out the window and began sliding down.

"Scared are we? That's good. Bravery has its place, but only a fool rushes into danger. However, if we are caught red-handed, there will be far more to worry about than injury."

While she was talking, Herb had been subtly maneuvering Harry towards the window. Now he found himself suddenly clinging desperately to a pipe on the side of a building, trying not to look down. Herb, several feet above him, glanced around as she carefully shut the window they'd climbed out of.

"Now Harry... The pipe is far enough out from the wall that I can show you a little trick, you'll see that it's much faster than using brute strength to clamber down. Grip the pipe tightly between your knees and feet. Hold your hands carefully, so that they surround the pipe but just barely touch it. Now, release slightly and slide down... not too fast, or you'll have friction burns. Easy does it, patience is the key."

xxx

Albus Dumbledore was slowly and steadily slipping into a panic attack. The wards and tracking spells on one Harry James Potter were all suddenly going haywire. He had been outside his house for more than a day. Why? Those muggles certainly weren't going to drag him along if they went somewhere for that long. He'd checked on them several times, just to make sure his plans were progressing properly. A few beatings, another year or so of torment, and then the owl from Hogwarts would seem to be a gift from the gods themselves.

But Harry had disappeared.

He had taken the liberty of placing some rather powerful spells on the infant boy that prevented him from being scryed or sought out by magic in any way until his first year at Hogwarts. Can't be too careful, Voldemort still had followers that wouldn't think twice about murdering a helpless infant. Now he was cursing that decision, as the ungrateful whelp had apparently decided to flee from his family.

He was still alive, several artifacts keyed into his personal magic signature assured him of that. The problem was, they were also saying he wasn't where Albus had decided he should be. The boy was a weapon, and had to be properly tempered and forged before he would be useful. How could he do that if he couldn't even _find_ the boy? He'd searched through the records of scrying stones he'd set up all throughout Little Whinging. Who would notice a few pebbles?

He couldn't see Harry on them, as he was immune, for the moment, from _all_ forms of scrying, but he could see when his cousin formed up a small mob and started chasing someone. Who else would it be, but Harry. They chased him, and then things started becoming a little confusing.

Rather than catching the boy and beating him, as he had expected, the mob had slowly pulled to a stop and gathered in a semi-circle around someone. He'd simply assumed, as Harry's fat cousin swaggered forward, that they intended to taunt the boy before beating him.

"I don't think so. We still have to give him his birthday gift."

That statement was when he realized something was wrong. Dudley's sudden rising several inches into the air, clawing desperately at his throat confirmed it. But genius that he was, he had placed anti-apparition wards around the small town. It would take at least a week to take them all down and by that time the trail would be cold. He sighed as the overweight boy was hurled into a crowd of his friends, who swiftly scattered and fled. Now... how to find the boy again... After a moment of thought, the only possibility that came to mind was the owls that carried Hogwarts acceptance letters. He quickly glanced at the list of people who would be owled next year to ensure Harry was still on the list, as he had been for nearly a decade.

After an hour or so of commanding, demanding, requesting, cajoling, convincing, arguing, and near the end begging and pleading, he eventually gave up. The owls would not seek Harry out until he recieved his acceptance letter. It seemed that every one of his carefully laid plans had decided to turn against him. Now what...

He sighed as he turned back to the list for a moment, only giving the slightest glance at the two newest names on the list... rather unusual names at that, but he'd met people with odder. Probably just moved into Britain recently, removing them from the list of whatever school they'd been listed to attend. They didn't matter, the crisis with the Potter boy was more important.

Carefully, Dumbledore made plans. He would let it be known through both Muggle and Wizarding means that Harry Potter had been abducted from his guardians and couldn't be located by scrying, or other means. He grimaced, as he wasn't even completely sure what he looked like... the only defining characteristics of the Potter boy were his scar and the unnaturally green shade of his eyes. If his abductor was intelligent, both could be easily disguised by magical or mundane means.

He sighed once more in resignation. The instruments were still reading him as alive and well, so at the least whoever had taken the boy had no intentions of killing him... unless they intended to use him as a blood magic sacrifice. Some of those were extremely specific about the date and time. He grimaced and hoped that the boy would live to attend the school next year... and that he hopefully would not have wavered too far from the path Albus had intended for him.

xxx

Herb didn't know where Ranma had gotten the thing, and frankly she wasn't sure she wanted to know... some sort of mannequin by the look of it, dressed in street clothes with a wallet in its pocket, jewelry on, and a purse. As well as a great many bells, which would ring if the mannequin was jostled even slightly.

Apparently, martial arts was not the only thing Ranma's scum of a father knew how to teach. She probably shoud have known. A bell jingled, followed by a yelp as Ranma smacked the boy lightly in the back with a switch.

"Wrong, Potter. Try something like that on the streets, you find yourself in jail if lucky, beaten and left for dead if not. Try again."

Harry grimaced and went for the wallet in the mannequin's back pocket again, what he'd been told was the easiest target. This time, his frustration made his hand waver and several bells jingled.

"Idiot! The only way you could explain that would be if you pretended you were trying to fondle him. At this rate, it'll be years before you move on to the next stage. Maybe we should try burglary instead."

Harry snapped. He hadn't really wanted to learn this in the first place, butbeing ordered to learn something and then being berated and informed he would never be any good at it... he was used to it, sure, but this was just too much.

"Why don't _you_ show me how it's done then?"

Ranma blinked, then smirked. She stuck her hands in her pockets and walked casually past the mannequinn. Not a single bell chimed, but when Ranma turned back to Harry, she had a new purse and necklace, and when she removed her hands from her pockets there were several different rings on her fingers and each hand contained a wallet. Harry gaped in astonishment.

"Th-that... That's not possible..."

"I assure you, it is completely possible... though I doubt you will progress that far in your practice. Any fool can steal a purse or two... it takes a master to take something without anyone realizing. At any time, in any place... to have dozens of people surrounding you and never realize that their ring, their purse, their wallet have all gone missing. Most lack the drive and ambition to learn, whether by choice or necessity. You are fortunate that it is I, and not my father who is teaching you this. I use a switch to correct your mistakes... he used a lead pipe."

Harry winced at the thought of it, while Herb arched an eyebrow. Yet another thing she hadn't known about Saotome... that was racking up to be quite a list, most of it contrary to her first impressions. The tutoring continued long into the night, inside the tiny hovel they'd slipped into, and eventually Harry managed to get the wallet without setting off any of the bells. Ranma congratulated him and promptly informed him that next time he would have to do it faster and smoother before adding another bell.

xxx

Nearly a year later, Harry was slipping out of the window of a wealthy, typically corrupt politician who had had the poor fortune to live in a town he and his tutors were passing through. Living on the streets for a year had pounded some lessons into his head far better than even the girls could. Every so often they would have the opportunity for a haul like this one, but it would be years yet before they had enough saved to buy a house to use as a base of operations. Surprisingly, thieves had to spend lots of money as well as steal it. They had to know who to bribe if they wanted to stay out of jail and they had to know who to avoid if they wanted to stay alive.

He dropped soundlessly down to the ground, smirking at the thought of all the cash stuffed in the pouch at his side, but blinked as a mass of feathers flitted in front of his face. He glanced up at the moving form and blinked again. An owl. No, he corrected himself as two more swooped down to join it. Three owls. He noted the letters as almost an afterthought, stunned.

"Girls..." he hissed. "It's time to go."

"But this man has so many pretty things... how can I decide what to take?"

"Herb, I'm serious! Something odd is going on out here."

"Have we been spotted?"

"No Ranma, but you want to see this."

The owls glanced back and forth through the hissed conversation, hooting and seeming to mutter softly to themselved before one's eyes widened and began hooting more fiercely as Ranma and Herb slipped out of the same window Harry had used. The three of them looked up and stared at the owls.

"It almost looks like they're talking to each other..."

"Of course they are Potter... The Pheonix people near Jusenkyo would speak with owls and ask them for favors at times."

The hooting continued for a moment, then they swooped down and dropped the letters, each near one of the group's feet, and flew off. They all reached down and lifted a letter from the ground, but were interrupted by a sudden flurry of barking from the other side of the house. Apparently the drugs they'd seasoned the meat that they'd thrown over the fence to quiet the hungry dogs with had worn off. Immediately, the three of them stuffed the envelopes into their shirts and, as one headed for the wall surrounding the house.

xxx

A.N.

This is my first effort at a Harry Potter fic, and I eventually just gave up and made it a cross with Ranma 1/2. I know that there have been several such crosses before, but anyone who's read anything I write knows how much I prize originality. I do believe that this will turn out far better even than I'd planned. Also... erm... to be blunt, I wouldn't expect the next chapter to be nearly as long as this one is. I kinda went overboard with this chapter, just couldn't stop typing for some reason.

Anyway, anyone who's read Ranma knows who the redheaded girl is, and even though Herb was more of a one-shot character in the manga, he/she is one of my favorite characters and I've been toying with the idea of matching the two gender-benders for some time.

Also, I'm considering another plotline besides this one. I've seen a couple Vampire-Harry stories, but has anyone made Harry a Werewolf? I know there's a fic with Luna becoming a werewolf out there somewhere, but I have so far not seen any with Harry sprouting fur and fangs.


	2. Chapter 2

Honor among Thieves

Chapter 2

xxx

Three children, three letters. But no ordinary children these...

Harry leaned back into the ratty sofa, reading the adress on the letter those owls had brought for him before running his hand through his shoulder length hair. He glanced at the girls, who were just as confused as he was.

"Damn... look at it. Exactly where we were, down to the _room_. How did they know?"

"More importantly..." Ranma interrupted, cynical as always, "Is this a trap?"

"Now Ranma, what kind of idiot would make something like this up just to catch us. Right now, we're still small fries."

Herb sighed before nodding.

"I have to agree with him. If the government or police wanted to go through all this effort to catch someone... training owls, fake letters and all... would they really waste it on us? We've never been caught, no previous criminal records... for all they know we're model citizens."

That brought a round of snickers as Harry began cleaning under his nails with a very sharp looking knife and Ranma began lovingly cleaning a suppressed handgun. To the trained eye, both bore signs of frequent use.

Herb smirked as she opened her letter and glanced through it, prompting the others to do the same. For a moment, silence ruled over the ramshackle hut, furnished with things filched from the dump.

"... I still say it could be a trap."

"Oh get over it Ranma... you're too paranoid."

"Paranoia is the _only_ certain method of survival. I forgot that once... not again."

"Still... I doubt this would be some sort of trap."

"The only problem remaining is just _how_ are we going to get to London, and now that I think about it... if this is _not_ some elaborate hoax or practical joke, as it may well be, it is possible that... wizards use a different currency than mundane folk. Still, for now just getting to London is more important. We need to plan."

The door creaked open and a gust of cold air blew in, alerting everyone's attention to the door, and the man standing in it.

"I believe that is what I am here for."

xxx

Several hours ago, Severus Snape was mentally grumbling to himself as he spoke the trite and foolish password to the Headmaster's offices. Yet another muggle sweet... the man put so much effort into appearing like a barmy, grandfatherly old man that even most of the staff had been taken in.

Not Severus though. He knew full well the master manipulator and heartless old man hiding behind the white beard. After all, it was a little known fact that the hat had tried to place Albus in Slytherin house, but he had... well... thrown a temper tantrum of sorts and the hat had eventually given up and sent him to be an idiot Gryffindor. Snape shuddered momentarily at the thought of a Dumbledore who had been initiated into the lair of serpents, and actually _taught_ how to manipulate people and events.

He brushed the horrifying image away, swiftly checking his mental shields before entering the room. The entirety of Slytherin house were informed of Dumbledore's proficiency as a Legilmens and were advised to take Occlumency lessons, which he offered to all of Slytherin house but was rarely taken up upon, or to at least avoid meeting his eyes. Everyone believed Slytherin house was evil, simply because they were not all blindly devoted to the senile and manipulative Headmaster... it helped that they didn't let Dumbledore in their heads if possible, and that the inner chambers were charmed with secrecy wards, since the time of Salazar himself. Nothing said or done in those chambers was spoken of to outsiders, and even Legilmens could not pry the information from their heads. Which was rather fortunate, as anyone who found out about those rooms and what occasionally went on in them would likely never, _ever_ be convinced that Slytherin was not the scum of the earth.

Just like noone would ever be convinced that the reason Dumbledore had been able to kill Grindelwald was because they had shared a dorm room in school, had grown up as the closest thing to brothers, and that Grindelwald had cast aside his wand, offering to surrender, when Dumbledore appeared in his castle and informed him of his allegiance to the other side. But capturing the Dark Lord Grindelwald didn't look nearly as good an achievement as defeating him in mortal combat... so when Grindelwald turned, to order his armies to stand down, to disperse, for the war had ended... Albus drew his wand and sent a full powered death curse at Grindelwald's back.

He knew this because his father had been one of Grindelwald's closest servants, and after he'd learned Occlumency the man had drawn out his own, unaltered memory of the event. But nobody would ever believe that the showdown between the two wizards had been anything but a long, drawn out battle between Albus of the Light, and the fallen Lord Grindelwald. To even think otherwise... it was close to heresy.

Dumbledore had spent a long time shaping events to his favor.

He checked his mental barriers one more time before allowing his eyes to meet Dumbledore's.

"You wanted to see me."

Damn. Even with all his mental barriers up and reinforced, and even knowing the master manipulator the man was, he still made him feel like a child that had been sent to discuss a detention.

"Yes Severus. Actually, I had intended for Hagrid to run this little errand for me but, well, you know how he gets with his little pets. Madame Pomfrey assures me he will be out in the morning, so no harm done."

Snape growled inwardly as the cunning old man attempted to draw him into idle conversation. It didn't help that he had a vague feeling that he knew what Dumbledore was going to ask... after all, he'd been frantic for months and now he was back to his old, meddlesome self.

"You want me to fetch the Potter boy."

Dumbledore didn't even bat an eye at the correct answer.

"Indeed... you know that until recently I haven't been able to find him after his abduction from his relatives. So I put a tracking charm on his acceptance letter before it was sent."

Snape carefully did not scowl. Interfering with the owls like that broke a good many laws. He wondered for a moment how Dumbledore's supporters would react to learning just how he flouted the law as a matter of course, and would suggest changes to the law to suit his own needs.

Dumbledore continued talking for a few minutes, with Snape giving noncommital answers when needed and repelling several attempts to enter his mind while making it lood as automatic as possible. This could be a problem, as Albus had never before been so insistent on entering his mind. It boded ill, and could mean that he intended to escalate his manipulations this year, to make up for losing Harry the year before. For a moment he felt sorry for the boy before reminding himself that Harry was both a Potter and would certainly be sorted into Gryffindor, and as such deserved it.

He nodded one last time and left, leaving the Headmaster smiling about one more victory. Hagrid would have been the better choice, true, to turn him towards Gryffindor, but Snape was almost as good. Tall, imposing, sinister... and no doubt he would have no qualms about holding a grudge towards the next generation. He may not be turning Harry towards Gryffindor, but he would surely turn him away from the only house he did not have complete control over. Slytherin. That reminded him...

His eyes lost the disguising twinkle as they turned back to the ancient, ratty hat on a stand in the corner. As though it felt it's gaze on him, a rip near the base opened and the hat began to speak.

"So Albus... what will it be this time, threats, commands, or another attempt at bribery?"

"You will put the boy in Gryffindor."

"Oh, so it's demands this time. I've told you before Headmaster, I cannot be influenced in any way. When he is sorted I will put him where he belongs."

"He _belongs_ in Gryffindor. He is the..."

"None of that matters Headmaster. When I sort him, we'll see where he belongs."

"I've already told you, he belongs in Gryffindor, like his father was."

"... Perhaps so Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded, pleased that the hat had finally seen reason.

xxx

Snape was still vexed once he'd left the castle and apparated to where the charm pointed him... landing right in the middle of a soft rainfall. A muffled curse and a few wand waves later he was dry and the rain was bending away from him.

"Point me."

He followed his wand, scowling, only to confusion when it led him outside the town and eventually to a ramshackle, hastily built shack. The wand insisted that Potter was in there... he had misgivings though. Charming his boots to silence his footfalls, he crept near, pausing outside the door as he realized that there were _several_ voices emanating from the dangerous shack. He caught something, a query about how they would get to London, and decided that this was the perfect time to introduce himself to the stupid brats. He opened the door, revealing himself to them.

"I believe that is what I am here for."

Within seconds, he was mentally cursing Dumbledore, and in awe of the three children. The boy with black hair, obviously Potter, had jerked him inside the shack and now had his knife pricking him in the side, just over an artery and the way he held the knife said that he knew that perfectly well. One of the girls, the redhead, had withdrawn a muggle sidearm and had it pointed at his temple. The second girl had disarmed him of his wand the second he'd been pulled into this tiny shack and was now twirling it around her fingers. He knew that in a few hours he would be enraged, but for now he was very impressed. He was a dangerous wizard, and yet they'd caught him off his guard and had him at their mercy.

He hated to say it, but they'd probably end up in Slytherin.

"You see! I told you it was a trap. Let's just kill him and go."

"Cool it Ranma, he had a wand. Let's see what he's doing here first, could be he's from this magic school place and he's supposed to be here"

"That's even worse! I've never seen anything good come of magic. Let me shoot him, then we can leave and forget this ever happened."

"Why Ranma... You'd kill a defenseless, unarmed man, simply because of previous experiences? How... decidedly cold blooded of you. I'm so proud!"

"Knock it of Herb... we don't need to kill anyone today."

Snapes eyes had widened at how easily they discussed... disposing of him, and he suppressed a grimace as he realized Potter was the one arguind in favor of keeping him alive, despite the fact that he hadn't removed his knife. His eyes widened again as the conversation continued.

"Besides... we alway's kill people. Why? Why can't we go have a cup of tea instead?" This was Potter.

"Tea? Alright fine, a compromise. We'll kill him, and then have tea and biscuits."

"Oh not biscuits..."

"Alright, no biscuits, but..."

The conversation was interrupted by Severus nearly choking himself trying to hold back laughter. He would kill himself before letting any of the staff find out about it, but he'd warded his rooms to allow a muggle tellyvision to work inside and he'd actually watched the movie they were referring to. The man was a genius. Immediately and unexpectedly, he found himself no longer at knifepoint and even being brushed off and apologized to. It was quite shocking.

"Right..." Snape said slowly. "In any case, I am Professor Severus Snape, of Hogwarts. Potions Instruction. Now if you would, you mentioned something about being unable to make it to London youself. As an instructor, I have been assigned to bring you to Diagon Alley to purchase your school supplies and make arrangements for you to stay at the Leaky Cauldron until the beginning of term."

Interestingly enough, Potter glanced at the girls before nodding. He'd have to look into.. what was he thinking. The girls just _might_ cut it into Slytherin house, but Potter definitely would _not_ and as such was _no_ responsibility of his. Now if only he could convince himself of that, and forget about the tiny slit in his robes.

"If you are coming then gather whatever things you cannot bear to leave behind and meet me outside."

It was only a matter of moments before the three popped out of the ramshackle hut, one tossing his wand to him as she stepped out with several satchels slung over her back while the other two carried out a large red canister. His eyes widened as they popped the cap off and began sloshing the liquid inside all over the hut they'd been living in.

"What... Gasoline? What are you..."

"Oh calm down Professor... surely you appreciate the beauty of random destruction? Who hasn't spent hours building an exquisite castle in the sand, only to turn and dash it to bits in moments?"

Snape was not amused, even slightly horrified, when the redhead patted herself down for something before withdrawing a packet of matches, lighting one, and tossed it onto the gasoline soaked shack. It went up like dry grass.

"Shall we, then?"

"But... You just set your... er... house... on fire! Why did you..."

"Oh don't worry about it. Everything in there we stole from some dump and the shack didn't belong to us anyway. Can we go now?"

Confused and somewhat dazed, Snape simply blinked and grabbed ahold of the three children before Apparating to outside the Leaky Cauldron.

xxx

The tall, dark, yet slightly greasy man that called himself Snape didn't seem too worried by the sudden shift in surroundings, so Herb just shrugged and followed him into the small, dingy looking little pub. Thankfully it was much nicer inside than outside.

The barman looked surprised to see Snape leading a group of three children into his pub, but masked his surprise swiftly as the imposing man stepped to the counter.

"Er... three first years then Severus? It'll be the usual Hogwarts room then... never had more than two at once though."

"Indeed Tom, I'm just here to make their arrangements before taking them to purchase their school supplies."

"Right, right. The room will be ready by the time you're back."

Snape nodded and headed for the rear door, the three students just behind. Tom frowned. For a moment he'd thought that the boy... nah, couldn't be. Besides, why'd Dumbledore send a greasy git like Snape to pick _him_ up? Couldn't be.

xxx

It was official. Harry was impressed. Snape had tapped a brick with his wand and the entire wall had opened up, revealing a large street of obviously odd shops. Herb and Ranma, being somewhat more inured to the unusual and/or cynical reserved their judgement for later.

Harry was carrying the satchel with money in it, as the girls had chosen to fill their sacks with valuable jewelry and such instead. Undoubtedly they would sell for enough to make the sum in his satchel seem a pittance, but they first had to find someplace to sell it. He glanced down a side-road, a creaky sign near its entrance labeling it as 'Knockturn Alley'. Dark, dank, lots of beggars, kind of spooky... it was perfect. In an hour, or perhaps less, the three of them would easily be able to find somewhere to pawn off their... liberated goods.

Snape, however, noticed him glancing down the alley and grimaced, jerking him forward towards a large building he assumed was a bank of some kind. He glanced up, reading enough of a poem carved into the stone to know that it warned off thieves... he almost snorted. As if a decent thief would rob a bank... that was all the fault of drug addicts who got ahold of a gun somehow, and Mafia families that could afford to bribe enough people to get away if they were caught... and that was just with normal banks! He didn't even want to think of what would happen if you tried to rob a magic bank. No, he had been taught well... a _proper_ thief would steal from rich, stupid looking people that were leaving the bank. Care had to be taken though, because some rich people could turn out to be very dangerous indeed...

Even so, a trace of guile found its way loose and Harry turned innocent eyes up to Snape.

"Why are we at the bank, Professor Snape? I don't think we have any money..."

Snape glanced down into twinkling, innocent green eyes and knew immediately that something was up. Despite his instant and brutal urge to tell the boy nothing he couldn't see any harm coming from telling the boy... despite that he was a Potter.

"Actually boy, your... parent's were quite well off, and left almost everything to you. You have more than enough to purchase school supplies, I should think. As for your... companions... Hogwarts has a fund for orphaned and homeless children. Fifty Galleons... more than enough to purchase school supplies and have a few gold pieces left over to spend on whatever paltry needs you may have."

"Oh, don't mind us... we're used to being broke."

Snape sneered down at them before continuing to the counter, speaking to the creature behind it and missing the wink exchanged between the three... less than moral children. Harry turned back to the counter and carefully masked his glee. Now... He'd overheard one of the passersby's angry mutterings about 'those damned Gringotts goblins...". Logically then, as they were in Gringotts, that would be a goblin. Snape turned back and beckoned them to follow him again as he boarded some ramshackle cart.

At first he was dubious, but after the first few seconds he completely forgot about the possible danger of the cart suddenly deciding to fall apart and simply enjoyed the ride. He'd alway's wanted to go on a roller coaster.

xxx

Fudge usually enjoyed his little visits to Azkaban. Walking through the dark halls, smirking as the criminals cowered from his presence, and these useful little amulets to ward off the dementors from both him and his handpicked squad of Aurors. Every visit would be highlighted by his choice of a prisoner. Just like a brothel, only better because he didn't have to pay. If you thought about it logically they had only themselves to blame. If they hadn't supported the Dark Lord or whatever they were sent to Azkaban for, they wouldn't be here, worried about catching his eye.

Lately though, his visits had gone slightly sour, all due to one prisoner. And here's her cell now... He grimaced as he stopped and looked in, to where she was just sitting calmly. Staring.

She never seemed to move. If you put food in her cell it would disappear, and water would be drunk, but whenever someone looked in on her, she would be right there. Just staring, blankly. It infuriated him. He'd always prided himself on being able to make the filthy scum in the prison scream. She never uttered a sound. Throughout all of his ministrations she never moved an inch on her own, refusing to scream no matter what he did, and when he had come back a week later, he was not pleased to see that, rather than being broken as he had expected, she was just sitting there, staring at the wall again.

After that, he spent weeks focusing on her and only her, doing everything in his power to break the annoying prisoner. Still she did not respond, even as he brought in a half-dozen Aurors to join in, Still, when they returned she was staring once more, sitting in the same place as always.

His rage boiled over, and he stopped everyone next to her cell, completely ignoring the mild groans from his squad of Aurors. They were getting extremely bored of playing with the one prisoner who imitated a rag doll and ignored them instead of screaming. Frankly so was he.

He sqatted down in front of her, interposing himself in between her and the wall she was staring at. He sneered at her, even though her eyes had not refocused. It was as though she was looking straight through him, at the wall behind. He spat in her face and she continued staring, not acknowledging his existence. His rage reached a crescendo, he wanted to strangle the little bitch, he wanted to tear out her heart, he wanted to... He almost broke out in laughter as he realized something. The Dementors. The guards had claimed that she hadn't recieved the kiss, but now that he thought about it it made sense. He backhanded her with his full strength, smirking as she flew several feet and landed crumpled in a heap, not bothering to move.

It made sense now... he wasn't losing his touch after all. You simply couldn't break the spirit, of a person with no soul. He left the room, still smirking and eager to find another prisoner. He hadn't sated himself yet, after all.

The door slammed shut and the minister left with his escort. Minutes passed. An hour. Two. Then her eyes came back into focus as she slowly stood up, wiping the dried spittle from her face as she turned a speculative glance towards the door. The minister had left hastily... too hastily. She slowly stepped forward to the door, hardly daring to hope. Her hand closed over the doorknob. It turned easily, and the door swung creakily open. She smiled and stepped back, removing her prison robes to leave her standing, nude, in the center of the cell, ribs exposed, obviously not fed well.

Age ten and a half. Found guilty for the murder of all of her family members one year ago. Convicted and sent to Azkaban without trial, she had set the record as youngest inmate. Ever. The previous warden had felt sorry for her and would, on occasion, slip her in schoolbooks, justifying it to himself that they were books meant for sixth and seventh years and she wouldn't be able to do anything about them anyway. For the most part, that was true. But there was one thing he had forgotten, and that was the Animagus transformation. The first two way's were more common, one involving a spell from an older, more experienced wizard or witch, and the other involving a potion that took months to brew.

There was, however, a third way. A way involving only internal magic, but requiring a great deal of mental strength and willpower, which she had in spades. How else could she have forced her body to remain still and unmoving while that... horrible little man and his minions... She shook off the near-overwhelming urge to just curl herself into a ball and shiver. Time enough to allow herself to be traumatized by what had occured, what had been done to her, when she had set her _second_ record.

That being, the youngest... and only... prisoner to escape Azkaban.

Seconds later, a long, thin serpent left through the barely opened cell door, keeping to the edges of the wall and in the shadows. She paused for a moment outside of one cell in particular. The man in there... she'd heard stories about him. Everyone was terrified of him, not because he had gone mad from the presence of the dementors... there were hundreds who had, to a greater or lesser degree... but because the dementors didn't seem to bother him at _all_. They had even taken to passing by this cell quicker than the others, as though they knew that they would not be able to feed from his fear and didn't wish to waste their time with him. He'd been searched for anti-dementor charms several times, but noone had ever found anything. Even that awful little Fudge man and the toad-lady he'd brought in at one point to... help... seemed scared of him. She sniffed the air, noting that for some reason the damp cell he was in reeked of wet dog before she continued down the hall towards the flight of stairs leading to freedom.

xxx

Well. What a pickle. She had made it down hundreds of stairs, past a dozen or so dementors who seemed to know she was there but not connect her to the snake on the floor, and out past the gates to the rocky shore only to realize one last problem. How would she cross the ocean between Azkaban isle and the rest of Britain? If she returned to human form, she could swim across... there was no fog for a change, and she could see the far shore in the distance. However, if she did so she would surely be spotted. If not by the Aurors on the island, then by the ones patrolling the beach opposite. If she tried to cross as a serpent, she ran the risk of hypothermia from the cold water or being attacked by a large fish. Either would spell doom.

Were she still human her eyes would have widened as she heard loud voices bickering from behind the gate. Two of the Aurors from earlier... evidently they had been sent back to get something that Fudge had left across the water and they were _not_ pleased that they would be left out of all the fun for however long it took to get it and bring it back.

Thanking snakes for their overpowered muscles, she slipped into the boat, carefully hiding herself before the chatting Aurors got the door opened and began ambling towards the vessel. They reeked of blood, sweat, and... she shivered, despite her form.

xxx

She watched, coiled behind a large rock, as the Aurors set the crate in the middle of their ship before pushing it off and heading back to the island... much more eagerly than they'd left as well. She turned and began slithering inland, considering what to do next.

Finding some clothes to steal was one option, but once someone noticed she was missing the Ministry would be sure to have everyone on high alert looking out for her. No, being human was definitely out. Snake it was then, just an innocent little serpent wandering through the countryside. What could go wrong?

She hissed a long string of swear words as a hawk suddenly swooped down, screeching its triumph to the skies as in seconds both she and it were well above treetop level. She screamed in incomprehensible hisses, demanding that the foolish bird put her down. NOW. She couldn't quite comprehend the bird's answer, except the general sense of snickering and hunger. Not good. Time to find out if she had poison...

She twisted violently, slinging her entire body around, mouth wide open to sink her fangs into the bird's neck. For a moment it seemed that nothing was happening, but then the hawk began to falter, wavering in flight, then slow, and finally fall towards the earth, already dead. She wriggled out of its talons, pleased until she remembered that she was _also_ falling from what was a very great height, and likely all of her bones would be shattered by the impact. She had lived through a great many things, but doubted she would manage that.

As such, it was almost a relief when a second bird, this time a falcon, snatched her out of the air and continued winging on its way. She hissed in distaste, conveying several threats toward the sadistic gods in general and the sack of feathers and flesh carrying her in particular. The bird seemed to chuckle darkly before dipping into a dive and speeding its flight.

Ten minutes of heart stopping, terrifying, fast paced flight later she had gotten the idea that this bird didn't want to eat her. What it wanted with her was anyones guess but she was pretty sure that if it was just hungry it would have stopped a good while back. Probably well outside this city too.

The falcon swooped down through a hole in the roof of a dirty, dingy looking building and dropped her on a table before flapping its way over to a perch where it could sleep. She began wriggling to get her cold muscles working again, in a vain effort of escape. It was not to be. Within moments, an old man wearing a very thick leather glove had grasped her just behind the head and lifted her to be examined.

"Snake, hmm? Snakes don't sell that well these days, you know that. Stupid bird. Still, I can see magic in the little bugger. Not any breed _I_'ve seen before, but then even I haven't seen every magic critter out there. Maybe I should look it up, or maybe it's a crossbreed or halfbreed... dunno. Well, I'll keep it around for a while and if it gets sold, fine. If not... well I'm sure some of the birds won't mind a little variety in their diet."

xxx

The three were sitting in the room that Professor Snape had arranged for them, idly flipping through their schoolbooks as they waited for time to pass. They were also quietly conversing as they read.

"Not much in here... mainly parlor tricks as far as I can tell." Ranma muttered, apparently irritated about it.

"Ah calm down... we know you want to make up for your sudden weakness." Herb jibed.

"I swear... I will find a way to kill that evil, shrunken bastard."

Harry blinked before interrupting.

"Wait... weakness? What are..."

There was a knock at the door, silencing conversation.

"Well... answer it Harry."

Harry stood from his bed and slowly opened the door, revealing... Tom the barman. He let himself in before eying Harry.

"... I can keep a secret, but I have to know... Are you... Harry Potter?"

The three of them exchanged a quick glance, ending in a nod from Herb and Harry grimacing before lifting his hair to reveal his scar, prompting a swift intake of breath from Tom.

"The scar... so you really are..."

Herb stepped forward, shushing him.

"Yes, he is... however, none of us care much for crowds, or lots of people looking at us. That's why the hair, to hide it. You know how it is."

"Oh... yes, I see. Don't worry, for all anyone downstairs knows now that Snape's gone, you're just three more Hogwarts students... Clever putting you in with homeless kids though... can't be too careful, even these days. There are still a few Death Eaters out there that'd be happy to get their hands on you lad. Clever indeed."

They all nodded and waited for him to leave before bursting out in snickers.

"That man had no idea, did he."

"Ha. Now... you were saying something about weakness?"

"Well its none of your business, but... you know that 'tatoo' on Ranma's back? Lets just say she used to be able to trounce me with one hand."

"_You_, Herb? You're having me on."

"I'm serious!"

"Enough talk about my past exploits... With tall, dark, and spooky gone we can get to work. Diagon alley'll be closed... except Gringotts anyway, but I poked around and that Knockturn alley Harry mentioned actually has people on the graveyard shift, for customers that don't want to be seen publicly. From what I can tell from these history books, you're pretty famous Harry. Hence the barman's reaction. That and money will go a long way."

Harry nodded and carefully slid the window open, glancing out to note that they could easily drop down into the alley from here, and they'd already noted that the back door was never locked. He hopped out, landing lightly against the ground as he'd been trained to do, swiftly making way for the more experienced girls to follow. He particularly enjoyed Herb's landings... if he didn't know better he'd say she slowed to a stop a centimeter or so above the ground before falling the rest of the way. He nodded and paced to the wall, counting out the bricks before tapping them with his wand like he had watched Snape do.

The wall opened swiftly, and the trio stepped through and paced quickly for Gringotts... Snape had been amused when they'd bought everything secondhand and bartered for it, but didn't ask them to return the Galleons they saved. As such they nearly had fifty galleons between Herb and Ranma while Snape had arched an eyebrow when Harry gave them the rest of the money he'd withdrawn from his account. 'To hold on to, because I'm terrible with money.'

That of course, was not including the large sack of money at Harrys side. They entered the bank, swiftly making their way to the counter. Griphook blinked, surprised to see the three children back so soon.

"Griphook, wasn't it? We need to change some Muggle currency. Is there anything we should know about that?"

The goblin blinked again, completely shocked that even an untrained wizard had bothered to remember his name.

"... I see. Will you be carrying the Galleons away, or opening an account."

The three exchanged glances, clearly unsure. None of them had spent much time in banks, and it obviously showed as Griphook sighed and set his quill down.

"Perhaps we should take this to a private office, my shift is almost over anyway and we rarely recieve clients at this time of night."

The goblin rose from his seat and beckoned them over to a door at the side, mumbling something under his breath as he set his hand against the knobless door. It slid open soundlessly, and once they were inside slid closed. Griphook took a seat behind the small desk, waving for them to take the seats opposite. He mumbled something under his breath as he traced a design on one of the drawers before opening it and removing a folder. A rather _large_ folder, he noted with surprise. He opened it and carefully scanned the first page, nodding to himself as it explained it.

"Well, Baron Potter..."

He blinked as the eyes of the children widened. Surely they'd known... But now that he thought to look, the robes they wore were secondhand, over old worn muggle clothing. Odd indeed.

"I take it by your expression that you and your... friends were unaware of your status as Baron of Clan Potter."

"I... yes. I was aware that my family was well off, the vault earlier was proof of that... but a _Baron_?"

"Vault... Ah, yes. Your trust fund. I can't imagine _why_ you would be impressed by it, as the entirety of the fund is no more than perhaps five percent of your total worth."

The boy's eyes glazed over as he slumped back into the chair. All that money... piles and piles of gold, filling a large room, each pile having several thousand Galleons if there wasn't some stupid trickery behind it like piling the coins over large boulders... five percent? He let loose a slight gurgle as he contemplated what he could do with all that wealth. He could likely buy all of Britain, and purchase the throne from the current monarch, whoever that was. The fact that he really didn't want to was a moot point.

"I think you broke him..." Ranma muttered, prompting a snicker from the ever-so-slightly-malevolent banker. He was a goblin, after all.

And as a goblin, he was crafty... especially when money or blood was involved. This had the potential for both, if he could find out a way for it. However, flipping through the folder, he saw a great many ways. Low-level clerk he may be, but this had turned into a great opportunity for him, especially if he could convince the young Baron that he was trustworthy enough to replace the goblin currently in charge of the Potter fortunes... a goblin that was very thoroughly bribed by one A. Dumbledore, and skimming a percentage of the vault's interest off the top for himself. He wouldn't even have to resort to trickery or guile... simply revealing these facts and the discreet withdrawals Dumbledore was sending to some O.P. character would be enough to have Gnarledtooth removed, hopefully in the traditional manner, and should he score the position he would even be scrupulously loyal to the wizardling, for two reasons.

First, because of the simple coup of moving so swiftly from his low-level clerk position to manager of the Potter finances would increase his wages substantially... several hundred times in fact. The second was the simple reason that the boy had bothered to remember his name, and had only taken a matter of moments to match it to his face. There were a handful of wizardfolk through history who had bothered to even look twice at a goblin, and of that _none_ had ever spent the mental effort to differentiate between goblin features or remember a goblin's name. Quite frankly, the simple fact that the boy had done so was even more important than the money and prestige he would gain from working for him, no matter how much he would argue otherwise if questioned on the fact. He allowed an honest grimace of distaste to grace his features as he flipped through the file and noticed that the withdrawals to O.P. were far more frequent than regulations allowed, even considering Albus had bribed someone into naming him Potters guardian... though the robes signified that Potter himself was unaware of that fact. Ah, good. He was coming out of his stupor.

"Baron Potter..."

"Please," he interrupted "Just call me Harry. It was bad enough knowing I had money, but it's going to be a while until I'm comfortable with... that title."

Griphook arched an eyebrow. Allowing a Goblin, a creature on the ministries list of 'lesser species', leave to adress him on a first name basis? It was unheard of. He made a note to redouble his efforts to get into the boy's good graces.

"Very well... Harry. There are a great many account inconsistensies and unauthorized withdrawals, and it appears that your account manager has been heavily bribed to ignore them."

Griphook had to restrain a mild chortle as the mild shock and confusion on the boy's face changed to an expression of pure rage that someone had _dared_ meddle so with HIS money. Granted, yesterday he'd honestly had no idea he had any money at all, but it was HIS money and none but his. A very goblin-like reaction.

"Who." He stated, voice laden with menace.

"One Albus Dumbledore. Now granted, he is entitled to a small sum, as when your parents died and your godfather was imprisoned in Azkaban, the Wizengamont convened and appointed him your guardian, entrusting him with raising you properly in exchange for a modest fee..." he trailed off, visibly cowed by the eleven year old who was _glowing_ with magical energies in his rage.

"He _what?_ And he left me with those..._PEOPLE?_"

Harry took a deep breath, visibly forcing his rage away and calming himself. Griphook felt extremely sorry for Dumbledore. Most powerful wizard _nothing_. With the proper training, this boy would outstrip him by a great deal, both magically _and_ politically. The boy released a sigh and opened his eyes again, expression carefully masked. Perhaps not so much training in the latter category as he'd thought then.

"My apologies. Do continue Griphook."

"R-right. There are two ways you can deal with this. First is the typical human way these days... press charges, file lawsuits, spend months or years in court and eventually end up with giving them the equivalent of a slap on the wrist. Then there's the other option... still perfectly legal, but most wizards don't care for it."

"What is the second option."

"You return tomorrow, and we do things the goblin way. A battle to the death between Gnarledtooth and either you or your chosen champion, after which, should you or your champion win, the locks on all of your vaults would be changed and Dumbledore would be forced to repay all the money he illegaly withdrew from your vault. I'm sure that with the proper champion, your victory will be assured, as Gnarledtooth is fat and lazy, and has never really bothered to learn the ways of our warrior ancestors."

It was quite obvious that Griphook was attempting to be named the champion, and he was most shocked when Harry nodded and turned to Herb.

"You haven't killed anyone recently, have you? Care to use those bloodthirsty tendencies on my behalf, Herb?"

Herb glanced up and down the gobling, oddly enough giving the impression of a butcher guaging just how to revert a slaughtered animal to its component steaks.

"I suppose so."

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter, but I hardly think an eleven year old girl is an appropriate champion against even an overweight and lazy goblin such as Gnarledtooth... I strongly urge you to reconsider."

"Don't judge a book by its cover, Griphook. Just a month ago this lovely young lady tore out a man's spine with her bare hands and flogged him with it until he died of blood loss from the gaping wound. I'd think she is most qualified. Er... you don't have any laws about these things we should know about do you? Like, for instance, what happens to the bodies after the battle, or anything else that could potentially be used to make a wizard ignorant of such things uncomfortable?"

Griphook arched an eyebrow, somewhat disturbed by the casual description of violence inflicted by the inoccent looking pink-haired waif, but masking it like a true goblin and trying not to wonder about the reasons behind the sudden, pensive question.

"... There are no laws about such things... but it is goblin tradition that such battles be held in an arena with a large audience and it has become something of a crowd pleaser to show some sign of disrespect to the fallen foe... spitting on or mutilating the corpse particularly."

"Oh, I think Herb can manage that." Harry muttered darkly, ignoring the wide smirk adorning her face.

"Tomorrow then... for now, let's get to the business we came here for in the first place. This isn't our only stop tonight..."

Griphook nodded and held out his hand for the satchel, which he dumped out on the table and stared at.

"These are... rather high denomination bills. I don't think I'm going to ask where you came by this sum, as I'm not sure I want to know. Suffice it to say that there's a good several thousand Galleon's worth right here. Now... I mentioned earlier that you could take it with you, but I hadn't been expecting quite this sum. Perhaps it would be best to simply place what you cannot carry in an account."

Harry nodded before reaching into his pockets an withdrawing a few bejeweled rings and trinkets, smirking as the tables were turned and it was Griphook's turn for glazed eyes.

"We also happen to have a couple sacksful of these as well... perhaps they should be put in the same vault?"

Griphook swiftly nodded in confirmation, and withdrew some paperwork from his apparently-bottomless desk drawer. After a few moments spent filling out the form he looked back up to the unusual trio.

"What name should I put the account under?"

The three glanced at each other, seeming to hold a conversation in glances before Herb shrugged.

"Musk."

xxx

A.N.

Aaaand I've made myself a liar, as this is slightly _longer_ than the previous one was. Whoops. And I remember a time when I would be pleased with a one-thousand word chapter. (Sniffles with nostalgia.)

Anyway, I just couldn't resist after reading a few good fics... Harry will likely be going into politics. He'll still be pursuing his... 'nocturnal hobbies', it's just that if he happens to get caught he can use political leverage and money to keep himself out of jail. Also, Dumbledore is a manipulative old bastard. Expect the trio to pick up some dark arts as well... maybe a little necromancy to study, or demonology. Harry might just manage to wrest political control from old Albus.

Also, Fudge is a _very_ bad man. If the inferences earlier weren't enough to make you draw that conclusion, I'm saying it here. He may just run afoul of a few nasty 'accidents' if you catch my meaning.

About the snake-animagus girl... You'll have to wait for the next chapter for that. Hah!

Okay, I think I've covered all the bases. Harry's rich, political ambitions soon, no real qualms about killing (when did that happen? Maybe I'll have to arrange a flashback or two...), the Dragon Prince(ss) and the two honorary Musk's soon-to-exist dark legions of the undead, eventual killing off of the Dursleys, Voldemort won't be the steriotypical 'bad guy' that I see him as from reading the books, Harry and co. will most definitely _not_ be sorted into Gryffindor, and their house should be obvious to anyone who thinks for more than half a second about it, yeah I think I got everything down. Note... Harry, Herb, and Ranma will be tough magically speaking, but not by any means all-powerful like some write Harry as. He'll have to tread lightly and avoid stepping on the wrong people's toes for some time yet... frankly Dumblydorr could still wipe the three out with his pinky. And politically, lots of people owe him favors. Big favors.

Anyway, please review? (Authors eyes tear and lower lip forms into a pout.) Pleeease? ;


	3. Chapter 3

Honor among Thieves

Chapter 3

xxx

The three slipped out of Gringotts, unnoticed and ignored by the few people that had come for late night banking purposes. Harry now had a wallet, almost indistinguishable from the more mundane kind that thousands of magicless men carried in their pockets save that it was constructed of dragonskin and had a powerful anti-theft enchantment on it. Expensive as well. He had been glad to hear that, as it would have curtailed a few money-making opportunities. Also good to hear was that most rich wizards refused to purchase this feature from the goblins, preferring to trust that noone would _dare_ rob someone of their stature.

Naturally, they made a note to rob the arrogant fools blind at every opportunity.

Harry had had a small sack of galleons switched to pounds to complete the illusion, but the real thing that would have been worth stealing was the small, plasticized, magical credit card. Apparently they had been very popular when they were first created, but once the general public had learned that the idea had been copied from muggles, they had immediately fallen into disfavor. There were a few families that would still use them, simply because the things were so useful, but not as many as could have been. They preferred nowadays to do as Herb was, and carry a pouch or purse that connected directly to their vault. The charm on that one was slightly different, as it merely prevented the pouch itself to be stolen... someone with light enough fingers could still take gold without the owner noticing. The creator of the spell had apparently found it ironically amusing.

Harry shook his head lightly to clear it of thoughts of money, finances, and theivery. Plenty of time to think about that tomorrow... for now they had their first trek down the 'forbidden' Knockturne alley to think about.

"So," Harry whispered as they paused outside one of the many nondescript, shady-looking shops that infested Knockturne. "Where to tonight?"

The other two glanced at each other. As normal, they hadn't planned that far ahead preferring to ad-lib, and honestly the revelation of their friends financial and political status had thrown them for a loop. Whatever half-formed plans had been prepared had been set to the back burner and were now mostly forgotten.

"The letter mentioned that we were allowed a pet at Hogwarts..." Herb speculated.

Ranma nodded and Harry smirked.

"I overheard that there was a nice little petshop down here that carried more... exotic breeds than the Menagerie on Diagon."

Exotic here likely meaning dangerous and/or illegal. But what's the fun in following the rules all the time and getting nice, safe, legal to own pets? Honestly... an owl or a rat or a cat or a toad. The worst damage they could give was if a scratch happened to get infected. Now a venemous snake or one of those things they'd seen in a cage whose teeth took up most of its body... _that_ was a pet worth owning. One where you had to count your fingers before and after stroking it.

xxx

The store was fascinating. The front room had a few token animals... owls, cats, ravens and the like, and a large sign proclaiming that other pets not in stock could be ordered... for a modest fee, of course. It was when a few galleons were slid off the counter and the owner casually set the closed sign out and locked the door, leading them into the back room that things got interesting.

The first thing to be noticed was that against their expectations the back room was actually several times _larger_ than the front room had been. Large enough that they knew immediately that the room had been enchanted, because there was no possible way there could be so much room in the back of the small building. The second thing was the reason for this vast increase in size. Hundreds of varieties of birds, cats, things with teeth, claws and scales. Some smaller, some larger, all contained in their own seperated cages... in the corner Harry caught sight of what seemed to be a midsize tiger, but which exhaled a brief gout of flame at its meal before continuing to tear chunks of flesh from bone.

Ranma seemed slightly unnerved with Herb's fascination with the creature. Her eyes were glazed as she stared at it, lost in her memories. She shook her head, clearing it. Lime had always been fascinated by fire... something of a pyromaniac to tell the truth. He had been fiddling with incorporating flames into his fights before they started for Japan the second time. Something involving a pouch of oil in his cheek, matches and sleight of hand. He hadn't gotten it to work, but Herb had the feeling that if he had the time to perfect the attack, it would have looked something like that. A brief gout of intense, searing flame. The big lummox would probably use it to cook his food with too... and probably set a great many things on fire accidentally. She felt a pang in her chest and realized, to her horror, that she still missed the oaf she had had hand selected in her youth to be one of her bodyguards throughout her entire life. She shook her head, to clear it of the fog of memories, making a note to inquire about the breed of the tiger, and what it would take to own it. It would never dare attack her. Despite everything, her soul was still that of a dragon, and she could tell by the way the animals looked at her that they knew that perfectly well. Ranma just sighed and shrugged, resigning herself that they would need to either find an estate of their own, or impose on one of Harry's so that the large beast would have enough room to roam.

Harry, however, was ignoring the both of them in favor of the piddly little collection of creatures of the sinuous, scaly, and fanged variety. A few glass cages of various sickly-seeming or lethargic serpents, the crowning piece of which was a three headed specimen thats flesh seemed to be sagging from its bones. He sneered with disgust at the torpid forms, turning to the only specimen that seemed to remain capable of motion, a long, thin, black serpent, its triangular head clearly stating the fact of its venom to those that knew what to look for. Even so...

"You're not much to look at, are you?" He murmured under his breath, irritated at the poor selection of his favored creature. An eyebrow arched up to hide under carefully placed bangs as it deigned to move, raising its head up to stare at and contemplate him in return.

_'You know...'_ it hissed at him, seeming to smirk if such a thing were possible for a creature with no lips, _'You're not exactly a sight for sore eyes either kid... more of an eyesore really...'_

It took every ounce of his control not to break out in barking laughter at the serpent's sarcasm.

_'Perhaps I'm just not your type?'_

He got the feeling that if the snake had eyebrows it would have arched them.

_'Intelligent conversation...? Buy me.'_

Harry blinked. _'That was abrupt...'_

_'Listen, I've only got a week. Snakes apparently don't sell as well as they once did... the others are valuable enough that he hangs on to them, even dead, but if he looks me up and I'm not going to fetch him enough money to keep me around he'll just feed me to one of the hawks. I could escape of course, but I'd have to bite him and then there'll be all sorts of exterminators hunting me down. I need you to buy me kid.'_

_'...You sound like a salesperson.'_

_'So? As long as you buy me, I don't care what I sound like.'_

Harry snickered and glanced for a price tag on her glass cage. He supposed it was possible that the snake could be male but the voice had... how to explain... and underlining tone of femininity that made it easier to think of it as a her. After a moment he gave up and turned back to the shop owner, who was casually seated behind a second shop counter and reading a magazine about animals and young ladies showing altogether a great deal too much skin in rather suggestive poses. Harry arched an eyebrow. He'd come across many things... well living on the streets as the three of them did most of the time it was difficult not to... but he simply didn't understand people that were interested in things like that. He shrugged. It was really none of his business what sort of kink an old man with half a nose, seven fingers, one foot and a large chunk of ear missing got into.

The man grumbled at being called away from his magazine so swiftly, and didn't seem much pleased that he was looking at snakes either. The gears of greed began to turn, however, when he took in just which serpent he seemed interested in and how casually he'd scattered gold across the outer desk. By the time he made it to the corner, he was wearing an obviously false and slime salesman's grin that he probably had no real idea just how hideous it was.

"Well young laddie... seems you've selected your purchase."

Wow, salesman's voice too... greasy and yet sickeningly sweet, like a combination of oil and honey coating a silver tongue between two jaws of rotting teeth. Harry casually masked his disgust when the filthy, both literally and figuratively as he'd apparently not bathed in years, old man leered appreciatively at Herbs backside as she leaned over to coo at something with eight inch long fangs and beady little red eyes. He hoped for the old bastards sake that she never found out, as he had found she could be remarkably petty about things like that, though given the occasional appearance of the troupe of collectors for that child-brothel that were _still_ trying to hunt the three of them down, he had to admit that she had more than enough reason. Those people were most... disturbing.

"In... deed I have sir, I've found myself captivated by this remarkable specimen here. Rather odd that she hasn't been sold already... even so I will pay no more than fifteen Galleons for her."

The old shopkeeper was conflicted. On the one hand, it was fifteen Galleons for a scaly worm that one of the birds had brought in mere hours ago... on the other, his young client seemed to be implying that the unknown breed was worth even more. He didn't know, and hadn't had the chance to work a spell that would tell him exactly what it was yet. He could figure out a way to put off the sale, or convince him to buy something else, but for months noone had ever even looked at one of his snakes, as the negative connotations of the creatures were so touted about by the idiot ministry, who had just recently labeled the common grass snake a dark creature. It had apparently been some sort of joke, but despite its harmlessness the mere fact that it was a snake was enough to get it condemned. He would likely end up with a very valuable snake that noone would want to buy. He resigned himself to haggling and hoping that he got a decent price for it... and after all, it wasn't like it had cost _him_ anything! Whatever he made off the snake was pure profit!

"Fifty Galleons, no less." It was a tentative offer, but he fully expected to be bargained down and was interested to see if the boy was decent at bartering, though the secondhand and worn, but still perfectly usable robes indicated that he knew at least a thing or two.

"That's outrageous. Such a ridiculous price. Seventeen Galleons." Harry's face was completely neutral, hiding the fact that despite the state of his clothing he could buy everything in this store with petty cash.

xxx

The serpent seemed to sigh as it coiled itself up to watch them bicker over the price. For some reason, she knew she should be angry about it, but her newly anamalistic mindset seemed incapable of any emotion besides mild irritation and curiosity about the boy who'd spoken to her, all else washing away into cool reptilian logic and yes, a certain degree of apathy. She couldn't help her cold-bloodedness... she was a snake at the moment. She even welcomed it, knowing instinctively that were she in her human form, she would have sunk into the aftereffects of the repressed trauma, but such things mattered little for an animal, and snakes less than most. As long as she held this form, she was safe. Safe from the dementors which would undoubtedly be set upon her trail, safe from being found by that awful little man, safe, safe from her own memories.

She recalled her trial, farce that it was. She had been dragged into the court by two large men, who had set her in that awful chair, which had instantly manacled her down. Fudge had entered the room then, and calmly hexed her voice away before the Wizengamot filed slowly in. For the next hour, she watched as Fudge laid point after point against her and one by one every one of the pitying faces turned stony and cold, especially after the old man with white hair and ridiculous robes stood up to say his piece. Sitting there, covered in her families dried blood, unnoticed spells constricting her to where she couldn't speak, could barely even move, it looked like an open and shut case. After all, why would someone fake something like this? If it was faked, then why, when asked, did the girl not defend herself? Far easier to believe that there was, indeed, something wrong with the girl, that she had truly commited the crimes she was accused of. Far better for the mad little girl to be sent to Azkaban, where she would not be a danger to herself and others.

Unnoticed, behind the scenes, Fudge recieved a great deal of money from an anonymous donor, and the Gryffindor house of Hogwarts, reeling in shock at the headlines, latched themselves just a little closer to what they percieved as the most powerful light wizard of the age, their own Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, while at the same time suddenly becoming that much more suspicious of each other, keeping a very close watch on each others actions, reporting anything that seemed suspicious to the grandfatherly Headmaster, who would listen with concern, eyes twinkling merrily as he informed them it was probably nothing to worry about, but to keep an eye open. After all, with something like that happening to them of all people, dear me, simply can't be too careful. Noone noticed that after the students left the twinkle would fade and Albus would lean back into his chair, fiercly occluding his mind to memorize the meeting sometimes, and others simply withdrawing the memory to be placed in a pensieve, to be examined for usefulness later.

In the depths of Azkaban, the very existence of Galaera Gryffindor was slowly forgotten.

xxx

They had finally settled on a price. Twenty-three Galleons, four Sickles, and a Knut for the interesting snake. Harry could have finished the shopkeeper off at any time... despite his experiences he was not the penny pinching sort... but he simply enjoyed watching the old man focus and actually break out in sweat as they went from haggling the Galleons to the finer points of Sickles and even bronze Knuts.

Even better was the way his eyes widened in shock when Herb managed to find a cub from the tiger she'd kept staring at, and Ranma had selected, at length, some sort of shapeshifter, both worth hundreds of Galleons and Harry'd simply nodded and flipped a Gringotts Credit card out of his wallet and paid for the lot without batting an eye. The old bastard was glaring respectfully at him as he left and Harry had no doubt that the second he was sure they were gone he'd rushed to an unabriged guide to magical zoology to find out just what that snake he'd sold was and how much he'd been cheated out of through the bargaining session. Harry smirked as they made their way in through the window. By tomorrow night, when they would return to Knockturne alley, rumors would have flown about the three interesting children... or not, if the shopkeeper was really as close-mouthed as he purported to be. Either way, they would come out ahead. If rumors flew, they would be exaggerated at every turn, and they would be highly overestimated, something that could easily be taken advantage of. If not, then they would be underestimated because of their age, another way for them to gain advantage.

He paused as Herb cooed over her little cub. Apparently she'd named it after a citrus fruit, though Ranma had grown solemn the first time she referred to it as Lyme. That reminded him, he had yet to learn his little serpent's name.

_'Little one? Little one, what shall I call you? Have you a name?'_

_'Hmm... Name. I had a name once. Once a long, long time ago... that name no longer fits me, for the person it was given to is gone. Call me whatever you will, for I have no name.'_

_'How... Poetic. Or should I say eccentric? Mad perhaps?'_

_'Bite me.'_

_'Such language little one... Sistilth.'_

_'...? You made that up didn't you.'_

_'Of course not! Well... you know. I like the way it sounds.'_

_'... Idiot. Call me whatever you please.'_

Harry smirked, happy. He didn't know why that name had sprung to mind... not even a name really, just an abstract mingling of sounds and syllables... but he liked the way the word rolled off his tongue for some reason. Sistilth. He shook his head and lay down, politely ignoring the ongoing conversation between his two roommates and friends.

xxx

Ranma shook her head and smirked as Harry slipped into that weird hissing language again. It had only taken a month or so for them to find out Harry could talk to snakes... it had actually been an accident. They'd been running from a parole officer and ducked into a zoo. Against all odds, the idiot had followed them, completely ignoring the dozens of couples cutting class that scattered at his sudden appearance. After a brief chase they'd ducked into a room and closed the door behind them, listening until the rather stupid officer had shot past. Then they turned around... and saw the snake.

It was huge... at least twenty feet. They stared at it for a moment and then slowly stepped backwards, grabbing at the doorknob to let them back out. That was a mistake, as the door had automatically locked itself back up and the slight sound of the rattling doorknob roused the anaconda from its slumber.

The next few minutes were full of terror as Ranma desperately picked the lock and Harry was, to all appearances, hissing at the snake in an effort to confuse it. It wasn't until days later when they found out that he'd actually been having an intelligent conversation with the thing. Naturally they'd taken full advantage of this, as certain snakes had venom that would only paralyze the victim temporarily. Awake that would be noted as the victim panicked, but asleep it merely ensured that the recipient of the bite would not wake for a few hours. Most useful, when one hadn't had the chance to enter the house in daylight and make note of the layout of furniture... after the time Harry managed to fall down a staircase in the dark, waking up the whole household with the racket, it was decided that that was important. After all, that was the closest they'd ever come to being caught.

Ranma sighed to herself and turned, leaving the boy to his softly hissed conversation in favor of Herb and... Lyme.

"I suppose..." she muttered softly "it's none of my business what you decided to call your pets. But I can't help but wonder..."

She trailed off as Herb's lips drew to a thin line and grimaced.

"Nevermind. It really is none of my business... and besides, I'm sure he would be pleased to have such a... cute... tiger cubling named in his honor."

She knew immediately that it was the wrong choice of words as Herb somehow managed to glare and pout at him at the same time before looking back down to the ball of fur in her lap. For many moments the only sound in the room was the soft ticking of a clock and the sibilant conversation between Harry and his new pet.

"Is it wrong?" Herb asked quickly, breaking the silence between them. "That I adapted so fast to the lock, that I fuss over cute things now, that I remember Lime and Mint even though..."

"... I'm sorry. You dealt with it in your way, and I'm dealing with it in mine. I shouldn't have said anything."

Herb nodded, and for a few minutes the conversation drifted through more pleasant things. What the name for Ranma's little shapeshifting thing should be, how the 'Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1' seemed to be filled with pointless little things and household cantrips. Certainly the household charms would be useful, but what was the point of creating sparks? What possible use could changing a blade of grass to a daisy serve? It was busy work that could be finished in minutes... they had proved that when they'd plowed through a quarter of the book and mastered it earlier that afternoon. Either it was busy work and the teachers at this Hogwarts place would teach them for real once they were done with it, or most of their students were truly brainless... or perhaps simply didn't bother to apply themselves to learning them.

Throughout the country, the entirety of the upcoming first year of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry sneezed simultaneously... except a girl with bushy hair that had just recieved a visit from one of the professors to prove that the letter they'd recieved in the mail was no hoax and hadn't gotten a chance to pick up her books yet and was worried because she only had a week to read them all and commit them to memory... she'd fallen asleep in the middle of rereading her advanced schoolbooks.

"Not possible Ranma. I had a chat with Tom downstairs, and Hogwarts is supposed to be the best in the country. Logically it follows that only the best and most studious could get in."

"...Really? Then explain just why they want us."

"I... That is... Huh... You know, that's a very good point. Why _do_ they want us?"

"..."

"..."

"Whatever, it's probably just some ploy to keep the gender balance about equal by some important, overly controlling bastard who matchmakes in his spare time."

Albus Dumbledore sneezed, knocking a complicated and expensive magical device off his desk to the stone floor, where it shattered beyond all hope of repair.

"You sure Ranma?"

"In my life, that's just par for the course. You should know this by now, we've lived together for over a year. In that time, damn near everything that could possibly go wrong, has."

"We met the kid, didn't we?"

"I'm still reserving judgement on him. With my luck, associating with him will call down an enraged evil wizard on my ass."

Something hidden under Professor Quirrel's turban sneezed, spawning a great many rumors.

"Well... you don't know that for sure."

"I'm getting to the point where it becomes easier and easier to predict my own misfortune. It doesn't matter. We're expected at Gringotts tomorrow. Get some sleep."

xxx

The Potions Professor, Severus Snape, was staring at the ceiling of his personal chambers, wondering just what had happened earlier, and why he was, against all odds, not enraged about it.

First, he had been interrupted at a critical point of an important potion by one of the Headmaster's trained House elves. He wasn't sure how they managed it, but he had come to the conclusion that the blasted things actually practiced to be able to catch him at the most inconvenient time possible. It was the only logical explanation.

Then, after setting the potion back to brew, he'd spent several minutes playing yet another complicated mind game with the headmaster which, as usual, he lost, leaving him with yet another distasteful chore. The Potter boy.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that little trip. Throughout the entirety of shopping for their school supplies the three street rats had inexplicably behaved as though they had been trained by the best of etiquette tutors. They did not speak unless spoken to, they barely spoke at all, except to barter for their secondhand goods. He would have thought it odd that they didn't talk, but he had caught the end of a subtle conversation through hand symbols at one point.

All in all, they had behaved far better than the only other child he'd been coerced to drag along Diagon had. His esteemed godson, the Malfoy brat... he was like a miniature carbon copy of Lucius at that age, and just as disgustingly spoiled as Malfoy senior had been, despite the tutors that Snape knew full well he had. That child he would rather not think about... the boy would come to school under the impression that he was owed everything simply because he was the only male heir to a very rich bloodline. Naturally the brat would be sorted into Slytherin, despite having nearly none of the qualities to be there, simply because he had none of the positive qualities for any of the houses and would 'fit into' Slytherin the best. That would immediately lead to the more ambitious of his little snakes to take up the post of hired goon for the brat, leaving him with some sort of fictitious title. Slytherin prince perhaps.

Bah. Not like it mattered. The spoiled little ponce would make life at Hogwarts seven years of living hell for everyone outside Slytherin house as well as many of those within. The brat would further taint the name of Slytherin house. Technically he _could_ put a stop to the brat's antics at the first sign of trouble, but Lucius held a great deal of blackmail-type leverage over Snape's head, which he would not hesitate to use at the first sign of unfair treatment of his son by the Slytherin head of house. Unfair under these circumstances meaning anything not as favorable to Malfoy Jr. as possible. The only way to stop the problem the little bastard represented would be to have another student take control of Slytherin away from him... but the only chance of that would be another first year, as all of the older years would be more than happy to accept Malfoy's gold in exchange for the occasional tacit subservience, or simply remaining out of the way while both parties went about their business.

For a moment Snape's mind shot back to the moment he met the Potter child and his interesting companions, and he tried to reconcile the image of the cold-hearted killer preteens with the 'innocent child' acts they'd been running for the entire shopping trip. Perhaps they... no. His mind rebelled at the thought of a _Potter_ in Slytherin, and the purebloods that dominated Slytherin house at the moment were notorious in their misogynistic values. The only way they'd be able to get even the slightest amount of respect would be for them to mysteriously dissapear or for them to attach themselves early to someone with a great deal of political power and/or wealth. Like Draco. He couldn't help but let loose an aggrieved sigh as he realized that Lucius's little brat would win again, even as he got the nagging feeling he was forgetting something important.

His eyes widened and he sat up quickly as the sound of a nearby explosion reverberated through the dungeons. The potion! He'd left it simmering for hours on end, slowly becoming ever more volatile and dangerous... He threw on a cloak and rushed off, hoping for two things... first that there was enough of the lab left that the house elves could put it back together, and second that no-one found out about this little mishap. Ever.

xxx

Harry smirked and leaned back while he swirled some complimentary wine around his mouth. As he was technically the only reason this fight was being held, he had been given a place of honor in the stands. The best seat, the best view... the wine wasn't half bad either. Naturally there was the small little detail that if Herb lost, or there wasn't enough bloodshed in the pit, the entire audience of battle-starved goblins would turn on him and Ranma to make up for it.

The gates on the sides began to rumble and lower into the ground, leaving access for the two competitors as a goblin began commenting through some sort of magical speaker system.

"Welcome, welcome one and all. It's been years since this fine institution of bloodlust and havok has seen use, and frankly it appears that some of us had fallen under the impression that there would never be an excuse to begin the games again, so lets all give a big hand to Mister Harry Potteeeeer!"

A scattering of half-hearted applause rose from a few goblins and over-excessively robed wizards in the crowd. Then the betting resumed.

"Ahem... well in any case lets introduce the contestants! Note that as both seem rather pathetic, the management reserves the right to pit Mr. Potter against a horde of Inferi left over from the last war should the battle be in any way substandard."

Harry arched an eyebrow and made a note to look up just what, exactly, an Inferi was.

"Now, contestant number one! On trial for being found guilty of hefty embezzlement and fraud, Gnarledtooth was informed of this upcoming event and, more importantly, of his role in it. He promptly soiled himself and attempted to flee. Fortunately, his bulk slowed him down to a swift waddle, and the guards swiftly apprehended him. His weapon of choice is a small, but sharp knife because frankly we were suspicious about his ability to lift anything heavier. His muscles are already strained to the limit from all the weight he carries naturally!"

Sadly, that was an apt description for the horrendously rotund goblinish figure being waddled into the arena pit at spearpoint. If he was shoved over, he wouldn't fall. He would roll. And probably faster than he could move otherwise. And he had a small knife clutched feverishly in his hands.

"Now, contestant number two... a cute little innocent looking human girl... who has apparently declined weapons because they 'look dangerous'. Excuse me while I delay beginning the match in favor of placing a rather large bet. One moment please."

At first it seemed he was joking around, but there were indeed several minutes of silence as the goblin left to go place his bets, prompting a massive flood towards the bookies.

"You did, of course, bet heavily on Herb... right Ranma?"

"Naturally. Everything in the Musk account, and once they looked at her they gave me a hundred to one odds. We're gonna be rich! Rich-er. We're going to be rich-er... wait, why do I care? I only need money for so long... once I figure out a way back, I won't need money."

"Ah? Do I really want to know?"

"Let's just say I'm going to deal with some old 'friends'. Backstabbing friends who left me to rot."

"Ah. You know, that would explain why you were so hideously injured when we first met. I'd kinda been wondering about that. Almost as much as I used to wonder how you managed to pick that lock with such a heavy concussion. Of course that one incident where you picked a lock with both arms broken and in your sleep kinda trumped that."

"Huh? I don't remember that..."

"Well it wasn't 'in your sleep' so much as 'knocked out'. I wanted to wait for you to come to, but Herb was rather insistent on leaving immediately. I'm still not sure why. Wait, look. The talking guy is back."

"Alright, betting ends now people! Back to your seats. Ahem. Now, contestant number two, who we can only hope manages to put up some sort of entertaining struggle before she dies a horrible, painful, and above all gruesome death... are you kidding me, what kind of name is this, even for a human? Herb!"

Herb stepped into the arena, wearing a cute yellow sundress and affecting a wide-eyed curiosity about her surroundings with her hands clasped firmly behind her back. The slight sparkle in her eyes completed the aura of innocence and purity. Just looking at her seemed to conjure the image of unicorns, fluffy bunnies, kittens and cute puppies.

The ruse worked like a charm as the crowd rose up in loud jeers and the overweight contender was suddenly fingering his tiny knife menacingly. Unwilling to drop the charade just yet, Herb willed tears to well in her eyes as she stuck out a trembling lower lip.

Gnarledtooth swaggered forward, all fear gone in the face of such overwhelming cuteness. He ran his knobbly tongue over the edge of his blade, idly speculating what he should cut off first. Maybe a finger... No, an ear. The crowd went absolutely silent, breathless in anticipation, and the torchlight glinted off the blade of the knife as it rose...

And fell...

"AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!"

Ranma and Harry winced simultaneously.

"Ouch... could that be any lamer?"

"Yeah... He screams like a girl... no offence."

"None taken."

"Aaaah... Ahhrgh... My... my hand... My... My arm... Ahhhgh!"

The crowd was silent again, this time in shock, and a mild horror for their misplaced bets, as the rotund goblin sank to his knees, clutching a bleeding stump. They turned to Herb, who was now smirking as she removed the knife from cooling fingers and flipped it aside before taking a large bite out of Gnarledtooth's forearm. She swallowed, grinned, and ran her tongue over her teeth as a trickle of black goblin blood ran down from the corner of her mouth. A fire seemed to glow behind her eyes... eyes which the crowds were only now beginning to realize were red.

Gnarledtooth was whimpering in terror now, attempting to scramble backwards, but with his massive bulk and only one arm to work with it was slow going, and he was beginning to feel slightly faint from loss of blood. He looked up in horror as the cute, innocent seeming demoness stepped forward and soiled himself as a wide grin broke across her face.

Her grin broke into a disgusted sneer as she caught the foul scent.

"Vermin. You do not deserve life."

Herb whirled the mutilated limb in a swift arc, smashing Gnarledtooth in the side of the head with his own dismembered arm. Eyes in the audience widened as the force of the blow sent the morbidly obese goblin flying directly into a wall, impacting with an audible crack of bones breaking as he slid down to slump into a broken shell, twitching occasionally. Herb sauntered slowly towards her fallen foe, planning a finisher. This was a situation where her not-quite-human physiology was a benefit as what appeared to be tonsils dangling over her throat began to move, rusty from lack of use, and angle themselves to point forwards as tiny pinpricks began to open at the tip.

Herb leaned forward to the living corpse and opened her mouth wide as two sets of gasses were spewed forth from the pinprick sized holes, enough pressure applied to them to ensure that the jets were several inches away from her mouth before they met, triggering combustion... the effect was spectacular, charring the last bit of life from Gnarledtooth's body as she held the roaring chemical fire on the body until the skin had turned black and begun to peel off of the bubbling layers of fat.

Herb timed her jaw snapping shut to precisely coincide with when the small cavities in her head ran out of gas. There would be no problem just leaving her mouth open, but she had spent many months with a scorched tongue in her youth for the sake of this effect. It was a matter of style. And the crowd momentarily fell completely silent in awe as she spat on her opponents charred corpse and took another large bite out of the raw, dripping arm.

And despite their financial losses, the crowd went wild with excitement.

"Hey, Ranma... You've known her longer than me. Did you know she could spit fire?"

"You know, by know I would think you would have learned to stop questioning what we can and cannot do."

"Whoah, who's questioning? I just saw it didn't I? I just want to know if you knew she could do that."

"If it makes you feel better then I honestly had no idea, or reason to believe, that she could spit fire. Happy now?"

"Very... but do you think she's going to eat all of the arm she tore off that goblin? Just watching is slightly disturbing to me."

"I doubt it... she'll probably stop at the wrist. From what she says, it's extremely hard to get what little meat there is on the fingers off withought having to gnaw on the bone for a while, and she doesn't care for the occasional crunch."

"Oh and that's not disturbing at ALL... Wait, just how does she know this again?"

"... I never felt the need to ask. There are some subjects best not to pry into."

"Ah... like these nebulous 'friends' you mentioned?"

Ka-click.

Harry broke out into a cold sweat as he looked down the barrel of an admittedly small, but still deadly gun. Many had mocked Ranma's incapability of lifting a gun larger than this. Many had recieved small bulletholes between the eyes. Few mocked a second time.

"You know, I'm going to forget ever mentioning those nebulous friends. Wipe the word from my mind, and forget I ever brought it up."

"That's nice."

"Should I grovel and beg for my life?"

"It would be a start."

xxx

A.N.

Ever so slightly shorter this chapter is. Hrm.

Apologies for keeping you waiting for this update, as recently writing has become a similar experience to slogging through a large field of hip-deep quicksand.YET I PERSEVERE!

Anyway, about the gun? Someone mentioned that if Ranma's weak as a baby, she wouldn't be able to lift a gun. After due consideration, I'd have to say it depends on the gun. Alucard's Jackal, for instance, is a monster that some grown men would have trouble lifting. However, in what I like to call the 'real world' I've seen some _very_ small guns. Like hide-in-your-palm guns. Those things weigh like a pound at most, and I'm pretty sure a baby can lift about a pound or so. Babies can do all sorts of things if they see something they want. But that's a story for another day.

Also, I'm beginning to slowly flesh out just why Ranma seems so comfortable with the idea of killing people. She seems to be planning some sort of genocide upon the Nerimites who failed to kill her. PH34R T3H FUR135 0F T3H B3TR4Y3D 0N3!!! 'scuse me while I bang my head into the wall until I stop channeling Largo.

Enjoy.


	4. Chapter 4

Honor among Thieves

Chapter 4

xxx

The scion of house Malfoy, Draco, drifted slowly out of his peaceful slumbers. One of the elves had left his breakfast on the end table next to his bed, exactly as was proper. Two slices of bread, lightly toasted with butter and a light sprinkle of cinnamon. An egg, poached. Three stripps of bacon, a half bagel, lightly toasted, with a light cheese spread, and a crystal glass of pumpkin juice.

And naturally, his small vial of medicine.

He finished his meal quickly before grimacing at the vial. He wasn't sure what was in it, but it tasted terrible. Even so, his father made it personally and he'd been taking it every morning for as long as he could remember. Even if his father was keeping quiet about what the potion actually did, it obviously wasn't harmful.

He shrugged and flicked the cap off of the vial before swallowing the vile concoction all at once and grimacing in disgust. He rose from his comfortable bed and began the careful process of choosing the days robes. He had to look perfect, for after his father had picked up a few things down Knockturne, they'd be picking up Draco's school supplies.

An arrogant smirk crossed his face.

xxx

Harry forced away the anxiety he felt as Griphook closed the door. Logically, he knew his nervousness was irrational, but he was simply no longer used to being more than a room or two away from his less than completely moral tutors. With Ranma having left to meet up with Herb and collect their winnings, he was slightly jumpy. He knew perfectly well that he was, at the moment, the least dangerous of the three of them. Ranma, while unnaturally weak, was more than strong enough enough to pull the trigger on her little gun and her aim was perfect. Bullseye across a football field in a howling thunderstorm perfect. Herb was simply a cute little killing machine. You could take anyone off the street, at random, and they would agree she was adorable, but she could tear a grown man into shredded piles of flesh in seconds. And now she could apparently spit fire. He made a note to ask about that whenever he asked about Ranma's weird tatoo.

He had a sharp knife. Now granted, if he got close enough he could do a great deal of damage with that knife and what he'd memorized from an anatomy textbook, but now that he'd been flipping through the textbooks for Hogwarts he'd noted that most of the spells were fired off in a beam, meaning that wizarding battles would be fought at middle to long range. Ranma would have no problem with that, and Herb was more than fast enough to get up close and personal with a group of wizards. Once again, he was the weakest link.

He shook off his cycle of depressing thoughts and sat down at the desk, preparing to discuss business matters with the goblin.

"Well Baron... Gnarledtooth has fallen in the arena, and I daresay that both of us have made a great deal of money off his demise. Also, there were several very important wizards in the stands anonymously. If we're fortunate, the arena will soon be back to its former glory."

Harry nodded slowly. "Indeed... but now to business."

"Ah yes, business. Now... Albus Dumbledore had it arranged so that he could send large sums of money to an account labeled 'O.P.'. I've made discreet inquiries, but I still don't know what it means. O.P. may or may not be a person, but I've made a log that there are actually dozens of people who have, at one time or another, made a transaction with the O.P. account. The only common denominator between these people is that they each owe some sort of debt to Dumbledore. Large, small... then again, Dumbledore seems to make a habit of collecting favors, so few people do not owe him something or another."

Harry's brow furrowed as he considered this.

"I see... In any case, how do I keep him out of my money?"

Griphook opened his mouth to speak, but paused when Harry held up a finger, eyes glinting.

"No... perhaps the better question would be _should_ I keep him out of my money? Tell me... how much has he taken, overall?"

"A few hundred thousand Galleons at most."

"And tell me... surely I have stocks, or own companies."

"Yes, a multitude. You make a great deal off of them."

"Indeed... so, how long does it take before I've earned back everything Dumbledore's taken?"

"Not long at all really... to tell the truth you could afford to lose twice that amount and still be earning a considerable amount."

"Hmm..."

Harry leaned back, staring into space for a moment as he considered this.

"Now... I would assume that Dumbledore had some plot in mind when he placed me with those... people. Now I find that he has been stealing money from me. I wouldn't think that is all that he's after. So... He is the headmaster of Hogwarts? It would be a bit foolish to reveal myself so swiftly to the old man. No, for now I'll continue to let him steal the petty change, like a thieving maidservant. I will wait and gather my weapons to me, and he will not know of our enmity until the time is right. And then..."

He paused and simply smirked.

"In any case, only I and my two associates are qualified to withdraw from the Musk account, yes? Redirect all the earnings there. Businessess, stocks, whatever. Everything. The money that's already in the Potter vault can stay where it is, but I want my income redirected into the Musk vault."

Griphook nodded and opened his mouth again, only to snap it shut irritably as a light knocking sounded at the door.

"Hey, uh, I hope this is the right office... Hey scarhead, you in there? I just managed to get Herb away from hopeful managers that want her fighting in the arena full time. You mind letting us in before they show up and start mobbing us again?"

The ornery goblin grumbled to himself as he rose to open the door, where his eyes widened in shock.

"For the love of lucros... Just how much can she eat at once?"

"Not quite sure, but I can tell you that all that's left of whats-his-name is a few bloodstained bones... well except that thigh she's still gnawing on."

Harry smirked as Griphook went slightly green... well, greener anyway.

xxx

"So... what next?"

Harry shrugged as he sidestepped past an unnaturally large and hairy man, who seemed to recognize him for a moment, but blinked and shook his head before continuing towards Gringotts.

"We could have something to eat at the Cauldron."

"Herb... you just ate. How can you be hungry again?"

"I'll have you know that goblinflesh is not at all filling. And despite its massive girth, there was little flesh on its bones. My... heritage and physiology grant me improved metabolism and digestive tract."

"Maa... Say that again, in a language I speak, please?"

"... I can eat more of anything than you can Ranma."

"You see. Was it really that hard to use short, simple words."

"Also, I believe our pets will need to be fed soon, before we go looking for extracurricular reading material."

"Pets... Ah! I forgot to feed Lyme!"

Ranma and Harry shook their heads as Herb suddenly dashed for the Cauldron, completely forgetting her own hunger in favor of her neglected feline. Harry arched an eyebrow as Ranma simply glanced after her before turning to head for Knockturne alley.

"Ah... Ranma? Not to be rude, but don't you have a small creature to be fed and pandered to as well?"

"Not that I recall."

Harry sped up to catch her. He'd learned to enjoy teasing people, and usually it was only Herb who had a chance to heckle the icy redhead.

"Really? What about that little thing in the cage that cost several hundred Galleons? That's not a pet? What is it then."

"Potions ingredients."

Aaaand that right there was why. Only Herb was ever able to get a rise out of her. One would think that the color of her hair would indicate volatility, wouldn't one. Not at all... cold as ice. Sadly, that made it very difficult to tell when she slipped between coldly calm and collected and coldly enraged and homocidal. Though good topics to stay away from included her past, boyfriends, and anything 'girly'.

"Right... Herb has no qualms about killing and eating the nearest thing when she's hungry... or person... and instead of buying a cute little animal to take care of like she did, you chose something you're going to kill, cut up into little bits, and stew in a pot."

"Actually I only intend to remove its blood. The rest is worthless to me."

"Betcha Herb'll eat it."

A light smirk crossed Ranma's face as she pondered that scenario momentarily. Great. It was times like these that he wondered if maybe he'd have been better off to just let Dudley and his goons catch him a year or so ago. They only physically damaged him... these two were warping his mind.

"Speaking of which, Potter... I wouldn't leave your scaly worm in the same room as her for too long."

"Way ahead of you... Sistilth's wrapped around my shoulder right now. I actually think she's asleep."

_"Am not."_

"Or not."

Ranma shrugged and glanced around, choosing a storefront seemingly at random and entering it casually and quietly. Harry followed, wincing as he noted that his footfalls were much heavier and seemed to echo through the dark and dingy room.

"A charm to prevent the sound from seeping in off of the street..." she murmured to herself. "It probably works in reverse as well, keeping anyone out there from hearing what goes on in here."

"Very astute, especially as you appear to be a first year student... and a muggleborn at that. I've met grown purebloods who never even noticed the 'eerie silence' as they entered. Good for you."

Harry restrained the impulse to jump in the air as an old man appeared behind them. Ranma, damn her, didn't even bat an eye... it was like she'd known exactly where he was. She claimed it was from martial arts training, but what kind of martial arts taught you to move around like a bloody ghost? She turned, slowly, and merely arched an eyebrow at the old man.

"I've found that a great many people immediately underestimate me based on initial assumptions... of course I wouldn't have it any other way."

The old man nodded, grinning.

"Of course, of course. Ah, but I have neglected to introduce myself. Oemaricus Ollivander, at your service young lady."

Harry blinked. Ollivander?

"Saotome Ranma... or rather, Ranma Saotome. Adoptive clan-member of the Musk."

Ollivander nodded, a slightly strained grin showing that he had no idea what she just said, but wasn't about to just come out and _say_ it. Harry smirked and took his cue from Ranma when the old man glanced at him.

"Harry Potter. Adoptive clan-member of the Musk. Ah... Are you related to that wandmaker on Diagon, sir?"

Ollivander grinned, forcing his eyes, which had bugged out and flicked to Harry's concealing bangs, back to their normal, slightly sunken position.

"Ah yes... My elder brother George Ollivander. Sadly the two of us had... something of a dispute about business matters many years ago and we've fallen rather out of touch since. Now he has a business selling nothing but wands... And I've one selling just about everything but!"

Harry nodded amiably as he glanced around. Indeed, there was a great many interesting items around the shop. From knives to crystal skulls to decorated masks to even an odd corner that seemed to have been built into a miniature tattoo parlor. Ollivander clapped his hand on Harry's shoulder as he walked back to the checkout counter.

"Let me know if you find something you want kiddos... but be careful what you touch. I have some things out here that are naturally 'for display purposes only'. Like that feathered mask, for instance. Seems innocuous enough doesn't it? Put it on, though, and it'll start dripping acidic poison on the inside. Extremely resistant to magical healing. Saw the nasty thing in action once, some great drunk lump and his buddies. Idiot just whipped it off the wall and started screaming almost the second he got it on his face... screaming and hollering, and his friends couldn't figure out what the devil was wrong with him and the mask is charmed so that the person wearing it can't take it off by himself. Of course with the way his oafish friends clustered around the thrashing lump, you'd think _one_ of 'em would think to take off the bloody mask, wouldn't you? Of course not. And by the time I managed to force my way through them, the poison had eaten off most of the poor bastards face. I hear he died in St. Mungo's, moaning in agony right up to his last breath."

The malevolent snicker following the anecdote perfectly illustrated Ollivander's complete and total lack of any sort of sympathy for the deceased patron. In fact, judging by his lopsided smile and the way his eyes would gleam whenever they got close to certain objects one could almost believe that he was hoping they would ignore his warning and do something foolish.

"Well... You can see that he has our safety at heart."

Harry grimaced at the language shift, but obliged.

"Ranma... why speaking Nihon? You knowing... my speak is terrible being."

Ranma grinned, revelling in Harry's mental torture.

"Ah... but can't you just tell that it's driving the old man over there crazy? The fact that he can't understand a word we're saying, that is."

Harry shrugged noncommitantly, but Ollivander was indeed twitching slightly as he strained to overhear their conversation... and make sense of it.

"Okay... you are having a point this time being."

"This time? Meh. In any case, I suggest you take a look at those knives... most of them have some sort of enchantment on them, some of them rather nasty. I'm going to take a look at these tattoos."

"Tattoos? Okay, is being your business. Letting me know being if you are finding something I maybe like."

The two shared a smirk before they seperated, each completely ignoring the long haired blonde who'd entered while they were muttering to each other.

xxx

Lucius blinked as he entered the usually empty store, only to see two children browsing the aisles... unsorted first years by the look of them, though the fact that they'd ventured down Knockturne spoke volumes as to their probable placement. He ran an appraising eye over the girl. She would probably grow up to be quite the heartbreaker... but as he'd never seen her before, she was obviously no pureblood. Mudblood filth that would doubtless waste away her life on pointless, trivial pursuits.

He smirked and turned to Ollivander.

"I'm here for some... special... ingredients."

Ollivander smirked right back, knowing that the Malfoy patriarch was over a barrel the second he crossed the shop's threshhold.

"Of course, of course... you can't be too careful with things like your child's... 'medication'."

A patented Malfoy Sneer was sent back in return.

"My _son_ takes the elixer because he is smart enough to follow my commands. Must we go through this arguement every time I visit this shop old man?"

"Now now Lucius... You know full well that I am morally opposed to what you're doing to your child."

"Son."

Ollivander shrugged, not in the mood for a verbal sparring match at the moment. He reached under the counter, withdrawing a small emerald flask.

"And here's what you came for, perfect condition, for my favorite customer."

"Until I saw those two urchins I was under the impression I was your only customer."

"Oh no sir, not the only one. I've several other regular customers, and one or two hobbyists that show up from time to time. In any case though... foolish of you to wait to the last minute to put in an order for something as important to you as this. I had to make a special delivery of it, and I'm afraid that'll tack a bit on the price."

Lucius nodded, removing a pouch of Galleons and handing it to Ollivander without looking. The old man stashed the gold away before following his line of sight to the redhead, who was browsing through enchanted tattoos. He frowned lightly.

"Lucius... your wife would not be pleased to catch you ogling a younger lady again. She's only just old enough to enter Hogwarts..."

Lucius waved him off, accepting the flask and pocketing it.

"By law and tradition she is more than old enough to be wed already, and making plans for her first child."

"Those laws are centuries out of date Malfoy, and only 'aristocratic' purebloods get together that early!"

"I was eleven when my parents arranged my engagement to Narcissa."

"But it was years after that until... feh. If you _must_ slake your... beastly urges, I suggest you pay a visit to the Drunken Hag down the way."

Lucius sneered once more before turning and calmly leaving the shop.

xxx

The small white mouse squeaked, expressing its absolute terror with its high pitched frequency. Its small, beady eyes had widened as it froze momentarily in horror, then darted swiftly away, forsaking agility for pure speed and smacking directly into a wall. The fur covered beast, fangs and claws already soaked with the blood of multiple of the rodents brethren, swiftly fell upon it, rending the helpless prey into smaller, easily swallowed pieces.

"No Lyme... play with your food first. Watch."

Herb grinned and lifted another small mouse from the cage, dangling it by the tail in front of her face before slowly exhaling over its wriggling form. The mouse, perhaps scenting recently spilled blood on her breath, began thrashing in a desperate attempt to escape. Smirking, Herb set it down on the center of the table, releasing the mouse to dash away as fast as it could. Herb waited for it to reach the edge, hurling itself blindly into the air, before snagging the rodent and setting it back in the center of the table. After several failed leaps the mouse was slowly beginning to lag, and after a few more it simply lay down in the center of the table, gasping for breath. Only then did Herb lift it to her mouth again. A few swift crunches and the only evidence of the end to the rodents meager existence was a few droplets of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

One swipe of the tongue took care of that, and she removed another mouse from the cage, smiling as her little tigerling began playing with the terrified rodent.

xxx

Harry knew it was the perfect one the second he saw it. A long and thin blade, slightly curved... in all honesty it was more of a very short sword than a very long knife. At first glance it seemed fragile and ornamental, but it was heavily enchanted. It would never break, never tarnish, never grow dull. It also had a small tag warning of the charm on the blade, a charm that kept the blade at a ridiculous level of sharpness. This baby made razor edges seem blunt.

He was careful to keep his hands away from the edge of the blade.

"Hey old man... I'll take this."

Ollivander nodded, smiling eerily at the price tag as he carefully slid the blade into its matching sheath... quite possibly the only thing that it couldn't slice through immediately and without effort. Harry glanced over his shoulder while paying, to where Ranma was still browsing through the magical tatoos. He slipped his new blade beneath his robes, concealing it within the flowing fabric as he stepped over to glance at her selections. His eyebrows drew together as he read the little tags explaining what they did.

Every single one was related, in one way or another, to increasing and amplifying physical power. Even as he noted this, Ranma withdrew two more rune tattoos and gathered the slips with their brethren.

"Ah... Ranma? This going to be done anytime soon? The thing is, I don't really like the idea of leaving Herb to her own devices for much longer."

Ranma froze, eyes going slightly blank as thoughts of just what she could get up to flashed through her mind. Her eyes flicked back down to the tattoos, and while her expression didn't change in the slightest, the indecision was almost palpable. Harry caught it and sighed.

"You know what, I'll just leave the money with you then. Hopefully she won't have gotten into too much trouble by the time I get there. Have fun... but don't have too much fun now. Or at least don't get caught."

Ranma arched an eyebrow at him as he turned and left, smirking. She lifted the tattoo images again and, at length, dropped one back to the counter and carried the rest to the old shopkeeper. His eyebrow arched somewhat at her choice.

"..."

"... I read in something that enough marks of an opposing nature, can counteract a particularly powerful cursed mark. What I have... isn't quite like that, but it's similar. Maybe you should take a look, and tell me if those will be enough?"

When he nodded, she turned and lifted her shirt, revealing the kanji for 'weakness' burned into the small of her back. He leaned in to examine it, eventually running a finger over it.

"... This is fascinating... I've never seen anything like this before... though it bears some similarities to the few eastern magics I've seen. What does it do?"

"It makes me weak... when it was applied, I was rendered weaker than a newborn baby... I'm somewhat stronger than that now, but I'm still weak. Do you think the tattoos can fix that?"

"Hmm?... I believe they will. Of course... there may be side effects. You said that you had managed to raise your strength somewhat despite this mark? Just from that, I'd say you'll be a great deal stronger than you were before... and with these strength enhancing tattoos on top of it? Your muscles will tear themselves to shreds if you have that much power behind them when you've never been accustomed to it... But all you want is for the mark to be counteracted, yes? If I add in a linker, and then used a temporary spell affixant rather than the permament one... It will take a few weeks, maybe a month or two, but as the tattoo's slowly fade this mark should as well... leaving your real power to take the place of the artificial strength the tattoos provide. Of course... it will be much more painful than it would be normally, and it will be a few hours until your strength begins to return to normal, but it will work."

"... Let's get started then."

xxx

Hours later, Ranma stumbled out of the shop with a weary grin. The process had been simple, yet agonizing... Ollivander had used a small, sharp knife to carefully cut the selected tatoos off the sheet, then held them to her skin and mumbled something under his breath as he prodded them with his wand. They quickly faded from the paper and burned themselves into the skin beneath... slowly. She'd looked in a mirror after the torturous experience was through, and there was now a ring of runes surrounding the kanji on her back, and one larger rune directly on top of it... it was actually a rather nice effect. She'd made a note to have someone sketch the runes and have them tattooed in the muggle way once the magical marks faded.

Nicest of all was that she could feel her strength returning to her already. With that dealt with, she could devote more of her time to... an arm draped in expensive fabric looped out of nowhere, catching her by surprise and dragging her down a side alley. Shocked by the sight of the apparently disembodied arm, she didn't even struggle as it tossed her down a small cul-de-sac. It was only when she hit the wall and began sliding down that she finally pulled out her small handgun and angled it towards the floating arm.

Lucius Malfoy took a moment to remove his personal invisibility cloak and draw his wand, before frowning at the small metal object the girl had pulled instead of her wand. Something about that thing tickled his memory... Oh yes, it was some sort of muggle toy. Couldn't remember just offhand what it did, but Draco had been fascinated by them for a couple of years, to the point of specifically requesting one for his birthdays and christmases. Of course Lucius had never even considered giving his son something that had been made by muggles, and eventually the matter had dropped... it seemed the pretty little mudblood had no problem threatining him with her toy though. Not that it mattered... this was Knockturne alley. The ministry had given up using their spells and devices to detect dark magic here, because use of it was so profligate that they simply could not arrest everyone that did. He would use a dark spell, similar to stupefy, but different in that it would leave her incabable of moving on her own but still fully concious and aware, he would take his time enjoying her, and then he would kill her and set the corpse on fire to cover his tracks. Here, where he could freely use all of the magics stockpiled by the Malfoy's over the centuries, he was...

The sharp rapport of the gun firing echoed throughout the empty alley, and Lucius's head slowly turned down to his chest, where a large red stain was quickly growing. Oh... that's what it did. Some toy... stupid muggles. His eyes went glassy as he slumped to the ground, and the small vial he'd purchased earlier rolled out of his robes. Ranma began to leave, but paused to stare at the little vial. Nobody seemed to be coming to investigate the noise, so... she lifted the vial and opened it, wincing as a cloud of foul-looking green smoke drifted out of it, gathering into an area the size of a basketball before continuing up. A small bird had the misfortune to fly through it... it was mostly melted by the time it hit the ground. Acidic... hmm... Her eyes narrowed as she turned to the cooling corpse. From what she understood, wizards didn't use 'muggle contrivances'... this one hadn't even recognized the danger of her gun until she'd shot him. If this guy happened to be important... the bullet had gone cleanly through, rupturing his heart, so she could pick it and the casing up and discard them elsewhere... and this vial he'd had... she poured the contents liberally on his chest and was immediately rewarded with thick curls of smoke as the apparently very acidic concoction swiftly ate away everything it touched, disguising the bullet mark within seconds. After thinking another moment she smashed the vial against a wall and dropped the shards in the puddle of decomposing goo where the man's chest should have been... a mugging gone wrong, someone smashing a cudgel into a concealed vial of a volatile mixture... she hoped the policemen, or Aurors rather, would draw the conclusions to see it that way. If they did, then it would be impossible to pin the death on her... just the way she liked it.

She casually walked out of the alley, leaving the long-haired corpse to lay, slowly cooling, until several hours later a homeless wizard down on his luck would find it and alert the Aurors that Lucius Malfoy, an esteemed Ministry official, had been murdered on one of his excursions down Knockturne Alley.

xxx

Time passed. The remains of Lucius Malfoy were given a grand burial, worthy of the rich man... though there were few attendees, his distraught wife and shell-shocked child were scarcely in the right frame of mind to notice, or take offence. Ranma happened to read the issue of the Prophet that covered the ceremony, but gave it no mind other than to be thankful that she had thought to disguise the cause of death... her once shining sense of honor having tarnished to the point where she felt nothing at killing another living being.

The three spent most of their time down Knockturne alley, finding more and more things to fascinate them and while away the days between them and the beginning of their schooling, each choosing a specific field of study to focus on after they mastered the pathetic tripe that the Hogwarts Headmaster had assigned as first year schooling. Herb had shown an interest in magical zoology, as her heritage granted her a distinct advantage... few things were willing to tangle with one that had a natural scent so similar to the greatest beasts of all. Perhaps it was Ranma's frozen emotions that fueled her choices towards the dark arts of necromancy and daemonology... subjects banned to the point that should she ever even be caught in possession of the books teaching the practices of those arts, any Aurors in the area would be legally obliged to execute her... immediately. Realizing the dangers she had stuck around the area after purchasing the books, and watched as the hideously overweight peddler swiftly closed up shop, in the middle of the busy hours, and headed for Diagon Alley where there would be at least one or two Aurors to report his sale to, in exchange for amnesty... she was not back up to even a tenth of what her full strength should be, but it was more than enough to drop down from above and break the man's neck when he foolishly decided to take a shortcut through an abandoned alley. The very next day, his shop had been taken over by someone else, who when questioned seemed to have no idea what the inventory contained... leaving her in the clear.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not so much, Harry had chosen a different path indeed. There was plenty of evidence of 'Dark' magic in this community, and while everything else was commonly thought of as the lighter branches of magic, they would, upon closer inspection, be better classified as 'Neutral'. Where then was the true 'Light' magic that would counterbalance the dark? He had spent several days researching in tomes of history, only to find that once, wizards _had_ used truly Light magics to combat the Dark ones... but that they had fallen out of favor many centuries ago. The author of the musty tome suspected that it was because users of Light magics would, time to time, recieve quests from the divinities that fueled their spells... quests that had to be completed, else there would be penalties to the wizard in question. The quests and penalties both seemed rather random, even frivolous at times. There was one account of a Light wizard who was sent on a quest to hatch a specific chicken egg, raise the chick to a hen, and give it to a monastery. Midway through the quest, the wizard's attention apparently lagged, and a dog got at the chick and ate it. For his failure, the wizard's penalty... was permament removal of his sense of smell. Oh there were the typical quests as well... go here, slay this monster, rescue this damsel in distress... but it was the ridiculous quests that were most memorable. It actually took most of Harry's spare time, right up until only the day before they would have to head for the train station, to find an old copy of a copy of a manuscript on Light magic... and in the most unlikely place as well. Borgin and Burkes... apparently a Dark arts supply store under the disguise of a creepy hobby shop. It had been between several books on the darker, more dangerous creatures in the wizarding world... the kind that the Ministry apparently liked to pretend didn't exist, and weren't mentioned in Newt's Fantastic Beasts. Dragons far greater and rarer than there cousins, with the ability to speak, reason, and use their own forms of magic for one... He'd been extremely fortunate to even notice the small, grimy, untitled bood, and even more so to choose to flip through it in curiosity.

Despite the eccentricies of this branch of magic, it was far too useful for him to pass up... after all, completely aside from the spells of instant healing it had purification and banishment... which would come in extremely useful should Ranma end up summoning or raising something that she couldn't control... which at this point would be anything bigger than insects and what equated to insects in the demonic realms. With a great deal of training in those studies, she would progress to the point of summoning Lords of the demons, and raising the skeletal corpses of mighty dragons... but that point was years away at best, and decades in a more realistic veiw. Previous necromancers had apparently used things called horcruxes to keep themselves alive long enough for them to research the spells to raise themselves as liches... possibly the most powerful humanoid undead around. The books were unclear on what had happened to them after that... though it inferred that those that hadn't been slain were still around somewhere.

The horcrux thing was fascinating, though. From what Ranma explained of what she'd read in her tomes, there where two kinds... a perfect and imperfect version. The imperfect one was apparently much easier to create and use, perfect for fledgling Dark Artists in seek of a quick power-up. Using the blood magic released upon another human's death... the book implied they would be sacrificed, but a later note claimed that the death energies would linger for a time and could be harvested from deaths of natural causes as well... the wizard in question would tear apart his soul to hide it in the horcrux. As long as it existed, he would continue to exist as well... but it had its drawbacks. Damage to the soul tended to have its reflection in the body, and the more pieces the soul was torn into, the more evidence there was of this. The most pieces a soul could remain in, and leave the wizard sane, was generally agreed to be three. The perfect version involved removing the soul in its entirety... the soul would remain undamaged, keeping the wizard's mental state in perfect condition, although the rituals and spells to go through to create the perfect horcrux were much longer and more time consuming. However, the perfect version had its own drawbacks... one in particular. If it was destroyed, the creator of the horcrux would die instantly. Just fall over dead, in the middle of whatever they were doing. This had lead those paranoid enough to create such a thing to either keep it on their person at all times, or go to great... even ridiculous lengths to guard it. Breeding armored packs of dragons and creating huge underground labyrinths were not thought of as overkill in protection. One infamous wizard had locked his perfect horcrux in a trapped chest, in a locked and guarded room, in a large building constantly patrolled by undead and immortal demons, and then worked a spell that shifted the entire building midway between the dimensions somehow... a feat that would certainly have killed him without the protection of his horcrux, and even so left him bedridden for over a year.

He had reigned supreme over the magical community of his homeland for centuries... then suddenly died. Nobody knew what had happened, until the building he'd spent so much effort hiding away faded back into existence, ruined, and all its immortal guardians either dead or dying. From the few that could still muster the energy to speak in a pronouncabled tongue, they pieced together that in the place they had been, where nothing could possibly exist... something did... something incredibly powerful, the size of a human, but not even remotely humanoid. It had apparently killed them all, merely to amuse itself, and then swallowed the large gemstone the wizard had used for a horcrux whole.

Few had meddled with magics crossing the dimensional barriers since, fearful of attracting the attention of the thing between them.

xxx

Finally, the day came and they left the Leaky Cauldron for the station... and platform nine and three quarters. Hmm. Harry groaned in disgust.

"Platform Nine, and Platform Ten... ours should be somewhere in the middle, but..."

Herb smacked him in the back of the head, ignoring his yelp of pain.

"Idiot... remember Diagon's gate? Wizards seem to like to hide things... and look, when we walked in Lyme was drawing a lot of attention, but near this wall nobody even seems to notice us. Obviously..."

She turned and hefted her trunk before walking directly at, and through, the wall. Ranma arched an eyebrow, but gave no indication that she hadn't already come to the conclusion Herb had, leaving Harry pouting to himself as she walked through the wall as well.

_"Am I... really that stupid?"_

_"Yes."_

_"..."_

Harry sighed as he dragged his trunk through the wall, hating the girls for their ridiculous super-strength. Interestingly enough, the Matron of a red-haired family would arrive with her brood only a few minutes later, but keep them waiting as she scanned the crowd for a boy with untidy black hair, emerald eyes, and a scar. She didn't really understand it, but it was Dumbledore's orders... they would remain standing there until only a few minutes before the train left, hours later.

Meanwhile, the three had found a secluded compartment and were deep into their books... with Ranma's being heavily disguised, appearing to be studies on eastern paper wards. She had learned the rudiments of those as well, extroardinarily similar to those from her own world, as a cover for what she was really reading. She carefully allowed a few small, apparently dead insects to fall from her hand to the ground, where they twitched and scuttled out under the doorframe. Having already been animated, the spark of magic within them was completely undetectable against the thick background magic floating around, and their exoskeletons hid all evidence of the fact that they had been dead for several days. They were small enough to be completely unnoticed by all but the most observant... and she could see and hear through them, like long range radio recievers only better, as they worked through the thick magical fields around them. They would let her know if someone was coming... and if it looked like someone who could see through the illusions on her tomes. She doubted that Dumbledore person would be here... but it was not at all inconcievable that there would be teachers on the train to keep the students in line. It was possible that one of them had enchantments that left them capable of seeing through illusions... which was why she had a hidden compartment in her trunk to place them in at first sight of a teacher, to be replaced by much more innocent textbooks. Herb and Harry wouldn't have that problem... although Herb seemed more interested in playing with her tigerling than studying.

Several students came in and tried to sit down, but were glared at by _every_ one of the occupants until they left. Being glared at by the three kids was bad enough... when the cat and snake joined in, it was simply too unnerving for the visitors to handle, and they fled for more inviting company. After a while the train whistle rang out, signalling the trains imminent departure, and an influx of people seeking seats. Sooner or later, they would all leave the three to their own devices... aided in that the air seemed to grow slowly colder the longer they stayed in the compartment. Harry and Herb both knew it was Ranma doing it, but only Herb knew how. Soul of Ice. Even without her strength, that technique, and it's advancement the 'Imperial Dragon Ascending to Heaven', had made her formidable enough to be her technical match... although she would like to think she would not be foolish enough to be drawn into its characteristic spiral... they would have to make a point of keeping their uses of energies other than magic to a minimum, or disguised as coincidences and flukes.

The whistle blew again, as the train began to leave the station.

xxx

A.N.

Well, that seemed like a decent place to cut off. I can't believe that I'd forgotten the soul of ice and Hiryu Shoten Ha for so long though... I mean damn, but the only reason he learned them in the first place is because of the weaknes moxibustion! I feel like an idiot. All right, next chapter is Hogwarts and the Sorting! Although I think everyone knows which house they'll be sorted into... Hufflepuff. Or maybe not! Actually, I'm only mostly decided... they have qualities that could suit any house... cunning... loyalty, to themselves anyway... they're not exactly stupid either, and you can't say they're not motivated to learn... and while Harry's not nearly so hot headed as he used to be, you can't say he's not brave... if only for choosing to remain friends with the wackjobs he does. The only thing stopping me from saying right out which ones they'll be in is that I want them to remain in the same House...

Meh, whatever. Leave a review, yeah.


	5. Chapter 5

Honor among Thieves

Chapter 5

xxx

"Anything off the trolley, dearies?"

Harry glanced up from his book to the kind-faced old woman who'd opened the door. Ranma was too deep in her books to respond, and Herb had stepped out of the compartment to find a lavatory... he wasn't especially hungry at the moment, but past experiences had taught him that it was always wise to have a great deal of candy and chocolates on hand for his female companions, whether for bribes or mollifications. Or distractions...

"I'll take three of everything."

The woman blinked, but quickly counted them out and exchanged them for a handful of gold... probably more than it was worth, but it was good to set up the idea that he had no idea what to do with his money. He carefully tucked the candies away in his trunk and went back to his book, leafing through page after page until slowly the rythmic bumping of the train cars and the soft whisper of paper brushing together lulled him off into slumber.

xxx

_He's here._

_Really? Already?_

_He has come... come to restore us?_

_Come to learn?_

_Come to teach?_

_Come merely for the sake of being here, in this place?_

_We have been long forgotten._

_Long ignored._

_Will he remember us?_

_Will he make others remember?_

_Perhaps..._

_But..._

_Is he... worthy of it? Of our aid?_

_The true Light?_

_A test._

_Yes, a test... a Quest._

_A Quest to prove his worth..._

_Very well..._

_Let the Quest be stated._

_**In the castle thou travelst to, there lie a hidden object of great power... A stone, shining crimson with the magicks of its creation... Another seeketh the stone, one possessed of a powerful Darkness. Find and take the stone before he.**_

_What happens to the stone after, is none of our concern... this alone is the quest._

_Use it how you will._

_Cast it away._

_Gift it to the one of Darkness._

_Destroy it._

_So long as you touch it before he, it matters not to us._

_Should you fail in this..._

_... Then you were not truly worthy at all._

_And being unworthy, you shall no longer be allowed to use magics of the true light._

_So mote it be!_

xxx

Harry gasped when he sat up, his heart beating furiously as his tome tumbled out of his lap onto the floor. Herb and Ranma kindly ignored him, knowing that he very much disliked being coddled after uncomfortable dreams or nightmares. This though... this had been neither... what had it been? So vivid, yet indescribable... and the voices, like a thousand harmonies of chiming bells, or the perfect symphony, yet peaceful like still waters. What...?

His eyes narrowed somewhat as he lifted his book back up, and flipped to a passage he'd read only recently. Few knew how the divinities behind Light magic passed along their quests, but this passage seemed to infer that the wizards would be spoken to in dreams... dreams like he'd just had? So then... already he had his first quest, and the words were burned into his mind. He had to find a shiny red rock before someone 'possessed of a powerful darkness' did. The damnable book hadn't mentioned that the terms of quests could be so vague... would it have killed those beings to have given him a better description of what he was looking for, or the name of the person he'd be competing with in this little game?

His introspection was interrupted as a girl with bushy brown hair stepped into the compartment and began speaking before they could even begin glaring at her.

"Excuse me, have any of you seen a toad around here? A boy's lost one."

Herb's face snapped into an 'I'm so innocent butter wouldn't melt in my mouth' mask, indicating to the other two that she was anything but...

"Toad?" she mumbled, wide eyed and with a finger set delicately on her lower lip. "... I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I haven't seen any toads... have either of you?"

As they shook their heads in denial, Herb turned back to the girl, smiling softly with her eyes sparkling in hidden amusement.

"You see? Maybe you should go look somewhere else... it would be terrible if the poor boy's toad managed to hop out a window, or get itself flushed down a toilet, wouldn't it?"

The girl flushed lightly at the condescending tone, but turned and started for the door... until she saw the book Ranma was reading, anyway. Then she immediately turned from the door to sit next to her, prompting an angry twitch in Herb's eye... Ranma herself responded by lowering the temperature in the compartment by several degrees, but the girl seemed not to notice.

"What's this? I can't read it... not even a little..."

"I wouldn't expect you to..." Ranma replied, coldly, dropping the temperature another couple of degrees as she flipped the page. "This is written in Mandarin... a dialect of chinese that few speak anymore."

"What is it?"

The temperature lowered another degree, expressing Ranma's annoyance at the inquisitive girl.

"It is an in-depth study on eastern ward magic... would you like a demonstration?"

Her eyes sparkled as she nodded, naively unaware of the danger she was placing herself into as Ranma put her book away, and withdrew a small piece of paper, ink, and a brush. The girl stood up and bent over to get a closer look, as Ranma's brush seemed to fly over the paper with the ease of long practice. The symbols took form within seconds... and then Ranma snapped the paper up and attached it to her forehead, locking all her muscles and bones into her half-hunched over position.

"Paralysis ward, little girl... You won't be able to move a muscle until it's removed. At this point I could strip you nude and leave you in an empty toilet, and there'd be nothing you could do about it."

To prove her point she stood up and lifted the girl's robes, exposing her...

"Bright red leather panties? You naughty little girl..."

She was flushing bright red by now, in a mixture of anger and embarassement, though her eyes also held a spark of fear... as though she was contemplating all the things that _could_ happen if Ranma did as she threatened.

Ranma shrugged and dropped the fistful of robe, letting it fall back to conceal the girl... and casually plucked the paper ward off her forehead, tearing it neatly down the middle to dissipate the magic.

"I'll just leave this with a warning, little pervert. Be careful what you ask for... and sometimes it's best to keep your nose out of things that don't concern you."

Still flushing heavily, the girl was quick to flee and leave them to their own devices. After a moment of silence, Ranma turned to Herb.

"So... what did happen to that toad she mentioned?"

Herb grinned, revealing a mouth full of glistening teeth.

"It was delicious."

xxx

Only minutes later, the door slid open again. This time, it admitted three newcomers... two hulking boys that were obviously acting as 'bodyguards' of a sort for the third, a skinnier, slightly effeminate boy with bags under his eyes. Ranma almost recognized him from somewhere... oh right, the long haired man she'd shot. This must be his son... though there was something odd about him...

"They're spouting rumors all up and down the train... that Harry Potter will be attending this year, but nobody seems able to find him."

His voice was odd too... perhaps it was just that he hadn't hit puberty yet, but his voice sounded more feminine than it should. Meh... none of her business. He was probably better off without a father figure anyway... Kami knew hers had caused her no end of grief.

"But I've been all up the train, checking every single cart. You choose odd company... Harry Potter. Will you show me your scar?"

Harry lifted one hand from his book to brush his concealing bangs away from the distinctive scar long enough for the boy to get a good long look at it. Then his hand dropped back down to the book and his hair returned to normal.

"I see..."

The boy turned to leave, but paused to glance back over his shoulder.

"My name is Draco Malfoy... I suppose I'll see you at school then."

He turned and left, his apes following dumbly behind. Within minutes, the odd boy was almost fully forgotten, and the train began to slow, pulling them to a stop.

xxx

"Firs' years! Right this way, firs' years over here!"

Three things about the man stood out. He was large, loud, and hairy... nonetheless, there was a small crowd of people about their age swarming towards him and the boats he was standing next to. He seemed to be scanning the crowd for someone... Harry kept his gaze down and focused on being 'there, but not there' like Ranma had taught him... she claimed she'd learned the trick from a crossdressing ninja and refined on it by watching some kid who practiced voodoo. It seemed ridiculous, but Ranma would come up with all sorts of random things when she wanted to avoid talking about her past, so he'd learned to just nod and accept her words at face value. It didn't really matter where she'd learned to do such things, as long as they worked.

And work they did... mostly anyway. There were some things that only worked under specific conditions, and some that Ranma had flat out refused to teach him... but as the large man's gaze lingered a moment on Ranma and passed him over as though he wasn't there to look at Herb, he knew that this particular trick was working in full effect... though that was probably only because the large man only had a general idea of what he was looking for. If he knew exactly what he looked like, and was looking hard enough, it would only be slightly tricky to place him in a crowd, rather than the impossibility it was now.

"Ev'ryone here? Sure? A'right, no mor'n four to a boat now, everyone to a boat."

They quickly chose their own boat, and were joined after a moment by the boy from earlier.

"Do you mind if I join the... three of you? Crabbe and Goyle are each the weight of two people on their own, and they tend to fidget. I don't care to get my robes wet at the moment."

They shrugged and let him in... it wasn't like it mattered. As they pushed off from the shore, the boy cocked his head slightly as he stared at the point where Harry was sitting.

"... Interesting trick Potter. Though I suppose it would come in useful for warding of reporters and the like."

Gasps of awe rose from all around them, and Harry flinched, worried that someone had caught his name... although at second glance nobody was looking at him at all... He turned and stared in the same direction, along with Ranma and Herb. Oh, a castle. And just where did the brats think they were going to stay... a cave in the woods? They shrugged and, as one, removed a book from the folds of their robes to flip through as the boats drew nearer the castle.

A large sweatdrop grew unnoticed on the back of Malfoy's head. Sadly, they only had enough time to squeeze in a few pages before the big man was yelling at them to duck and they were floating into a hidden dock beneath the castle.

The big man quickly stepped out of his boat and stepped up to a heavy iron door, the students draggling a little slower behind. He knocked three times, and the door slowly creaked open, revealing a stern matron type, with her hair drawn up into a tight bun.

"The students, Hagrid?"

At the large man's nod, she motioned them to follow her.

"I am Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor house. Follow me."

As she led the children through the hallways, portraits would stare at them and mutter to themselves as they passed, occasionally calling out greetings. Harry, Ranma, and Herb took note of this... if the paintings reported to someone, it would make after-hours explorations a great deal more difficult. They noted McGonagall talking at them, but didn't pay much attention as they were herded into a medium sized room.

"Wait here... the Sorting will be soon."

Once again, the three simultaneously withdrew their books and opened them in the same motion, returning the sweatdrop to Draco's head as he left to hunt down his trained gorillas.

The scared children muttered to themselves, worrying over what this 'Sorting' could be... Then a group of transparent figures floated in through a wall. There were a great many startled gasps, and one red-headed boy screamed in horror before falling on his rear. After a few moments of panic, the ghosts continued floating on through the next wall, still arguing amongst themselves about something. None of the three reading paid them any more attention. After a few minutes of anxious shuffling on the part of the other students, and more than a few quizzical glances at the more nonchalant trio, who would only flip a page now and again, the McGonagall lady reappeared and led them through a door, right out in front of four huge tables of older students and a large one of adults. In front of the staff table stood a tall stool, and on that stool rested... an ancient, battered hat. A tiny seam slowly opened near the brim, and the hat broke out into full song.

Suspension of disbelief now at full.

After the hat's little musical came to an end, McGonagall unrolled a large scroll and began reading names off it. They took little notice of the names called, except for 'Granger, Hermione' who turned out to be the bushy haired girl, and a Gryffindor, and 'Malfoy, Draco', who was sorted into Slytherin just before...

"Musk, Herb?"

Ignoring the bold snickers at her odd name, Herb put on her best 'cute and innocent little girl' expression as she slipped her book into her pocket and stepped up to the hat, placing it over her head and letting it fall lightly over her eyes. The hat's voice seemed to whisper in her ears.

_Hmm... You're an interesting one. Loyalty in spades... but only to those you feel deserve it. Bravery in abundance, but tempered by cunning... previous experience as well. You are not all that you seem... and you are far older than your body appears. Ah, I see... you aren't entirely human are you... or even of this world. Crossing the barriers between dimensions is a tricky business, Dragonspawn. Tricky and dangerous... but I am merely a hat, and unless you come to me seeking advise I am only obliged to place you where you belong. Now... your personality would truly see you well in any of the four Houses, but given that your sense of morality... differs somewhat from pure humans I think the best place for you to be is..._ SLYTHERIN!

Scattered, half-hearted applause broke out in some sections of the table, but most of the Slytherin upperclassmen ignored her arrival in favor of their own, quiet conversations, and subtle passing of small pouches that made mettallic clinkings. Unlike the other houses, the people here were making bets on who would be placed where... and unlike the other tables, a few pre-meal refreshments and appetizers had already appeared magically for the students to nibble on. She noticed Snape, at the staff table give her a curt nod, and she waved vapidly back in return... causing no few scandalous looks to be sent her way from throughout the hall. Slytherin was the house of the mysterious, dark, and evil. Didn't this little girl realize that?

Malfoy took a moment to brush off his goons, who were pigging out on all sorts of finger foods, and take a seat across from her.

"Welcome to Slytherin, House of the cunning, ambitious, and... higher class. I was quite surprised at the Hat's decision... I'd had you pegged for a Ravenclaw, with the fact that the book you're reading is actually molding."

Herb shrugged and took a sip of the liquid in their goblets... which actually seemed to be a very expensive red wine. Malfoy idly gestured towards the crowd of unsorted students.

"Care to gamble? I see your friend Potter will be Sorted soon... twenty Galleons says he ends up in Gryffindor. The entire Potter line has been, just like we Malfoys are almost always in Slytherin... with the occasional abberance of a Ravenclaw."

Herb blinked and daintily popped a tiny slice of very rare meat in her mouth before answering.

"Really? The hat mentioned something about personality though... could you explain that?"

"Of course... The Hat, and what little they say about the sorting only explains the positive qualities that tend to define a House anyway... It's always good to have it explained in full. To begin, Gryffindor is heralded as the home of the brave and courageous, but its members are usually hot-headed, loud and brash as well. Several well known heroes came from Gryffindor, coloring the public perception of Gryffindors as heroes in the making, while they forget easily that several well known villains came from there as well. As such, people tend to look the other way when it comes to instances of older Gryffindors bullying younger children from other houses, while such activity would never be tolerated from someone of another house. My father is... was a school governor, and I'd often walk in on him signing forms for disciplining just such actions.

Ravenclaw is the house of the intelligent and studious... bookworms typically, with no love outside learning and little social ability. While Ravenclaws do tend to study harder and earn better grades, it tends to cost them their social life, leaving them little or no idea of how to interact with their peers... and they often find it difficult to apply what they've learned in the real world, though some do outstandingly well.

Hufflepuff is considered the house of the loyal. Although some say that it's just a house for people who don't fit in anywhere else, that's not really true. I don't know much though... Hufflepuffs tend to stick to themselves and be extremely well behaved, though in inter-house disputes they'll almost always back Gryffindor. Nearly all Hufflepuffs idolize the image of the brave and powerful heroes of the past, or grew up on tales of bands of peasants swarming a dragon and slaying it... Things like that, though there was once a Dark Lord who came from Hufflepuff... Not many know about him really, and those that do tend to easily forget about his reign of terror. After all, this was centuries ago, so they just label him a bad apple and forget about it, even though he was the one to invent the Cruciatus curse. Hufflepuffs just tend to go unnoticed, and most prefer it that way.

Slytherin now... Slytherin is home to the cunning and ambitious... and as I said, those are traits that tend to surface in the higher classes. The problem is ambition is a trait... that can more easily lead to a person becoming more of a villain than a hero. About two thirds of the wizards and witches that 'go dark' come from Slytherin... but actually very few of them were led by Slytherins until our most recent Dark Lord. Most of the previous Dark Lords and Ladies came from Ravenclaw really, with the occasional few Gryffindors... but it's a vicious cycle. As more Slytherins go dark after they leave their schooling, fewer are trusted here, even by most teachers... and as things grow slowly worse for the Slytherins here, more and more leave to go dark."

Malfoy shook his head as loud whispers began coming from everywhere around the room.

"Potter?"

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

"Kinda shorter than you'd expect, isn't he..."

"... Can't believe I didn't notice him standing there..."

"Wonder where he'll...?"

Malfoy took a sip of his wine and shrugged.

"As I said... Twenty Galleons says Potter is put in Gryffindor. It's what everyone expects, really."

Herb pursed her lips and stared at Harry, who'd just dropped the hat over his eyes.

"Twenty Galleons... says he's placed in either Hufflepuff or Slytherin."

Draco blinked but shrugged.

"I suppose you know something I don't? Ah well... we'll see."

xxx

_Hmm... intriguing. Like the dragonspawn, you have qualities of all the houses... well, perhaps not Ravenclaw so much, but the other three definitely. Courage in abundance, absolute loyalty to your friends... well, I'm nobody to tell you who to be friends with, that's more along the lines of what Albus wants to do._

'Albus? Who's Albus?'

_Oh dear... it seems I've said a little too much. Try to forget I said that, would you? Though I can already tell you wont... dear me, what's this? True Light magic, and not the average kind that gets passed off as such these days? One would think that would definitively place you in Gryffindor... but no, now I've looked closer at your mind, I can see that Gryffindor is no place for you. So what it comes down to is... Hufflepuff or Slytherin. Slytherin would be good... you could be great, you know, It's all here, locked away inside your head... and Slytherin will aid you on your path to greatness... Of course, you could also slip right in to Hufflepuff. It would be much easier for you... almost everyone watching expects you to fit neatly into the mold of a boy-hero, a golden Gryffindor, but doubtless Hufflepuff would be a close second for them... and you would fit in better in Hufflepuff than in Gryffindor any day. What do you want? Greatness? Prestige? Just to fit in, to be normal for once in your life?_

'... I used to want normalcy... but by now I think I'd die of boredom if I had to live just one normal day with nothing happening.'

_Ah... I see... Well in that case, it had better be..._

xxx

"Slytherin!"

The Hats booming call echoed throughout the great hall, leaving it absolutely silent except for the tiny clink of Malfoy handing over a tiny pouch of gold to a smirking Herb. The rest of the students had slipped into a uniform dull shock, though the reactions of the staff were much more interesting to watch. While Pomona Sprout, head of Hufflepuff had only started lightly at the hat's decision, the other heads reactions were much more diverse. Filus Flitwick, Ravenclaw Head, had fallen completely out of his chair and was still laying on the ground, possibly having fainted. Minerva McGonagall suddenly looked as though she may begin to break out in sobs at any moment, and Severus Snape, the head of Slytherin house... at first glance seemed not to have reacted, but at a closer look the knuckles of the fist he had set to the side of his chin were turning white and his eyes were somewhat glazed as his head slowly slid down, down, and then slammed with a crack face-first against the table. And the Headmaster Dumbledore...? He was actually vibrating slightly as he went red with rage, but for no more than a second or so before he'd mastered his emotions and firmly placed his 'kindly Grandfather' mask back on... with everyones attention firmly on Potter, nobody noticed his lapse of control.

It took several minutes after Harry had set the hat back on the stool and seated himself next to Herb before McGonagall managed to get her voice working enough to call the next name, and she fumbled over it several times. Flitwick had managed to get back up into his chair, but Snape still wasn't moving, and a small puddle of blood was beginning to form near his face... apparently he'd broken his nose. A few names, and small bets later, the hall had returned to almost normal, though odd looks would be sent Harry's way every now and again.

"Saotome, Ranma."

"Ten Galleons on Ravenclaw... she's still got her nose in that book while she's walking to the hat. Like to know how she doesn't trip..."

"Ten on Slytherin."

"Same."

Once again, Draco raised an eyebrow... meh. Too late to change his bet, and apparently there was something they knew about her that he didn't.

xxx

There were no words exchanged between the hat and Ranma... only images, dredged up from the depths of her mind. Memories of betrayal... and fantasies of vengeance.

_I see..._

xxx

"Slytherin!"

Draco shrugged and handed the coins over... Truly, he'd been expecting to lose. When the two ahead of him differed in opinion, there was a chance it could go any way... but when both had decided on the same house, they would always be correct. Annoying, because he would always bet first, out of habit, but true. With all three of them together... he sighed and began to sulk lightly, turning away from where the redheaded girl was sitting down on the other side of Herb to watch the last few children be sorted without betting. After the last one, a 'Zabini, Blaise', had been sorted into Slytherin, Dumbledore rose from his seat... his twinkling eyes giving away no hint about the rage he was bottling inside him.

"Now before we eat, I must make a few announcements."

Groans echoed softly through the hall, seeming to come mostly from the Gryffindor table.

"Firstly, Fanged Frisbees and Screaming Boomerangs have been added to the list of items that are proscribed within the castle. Those wishing to see the full list of proscribed items may do so tomorrow, as I believe Argus makes a habit of pinning the full list to his office door. New students should take note that the Forbidden Forest is, indeed, forbidden... and a few of our older students would do well to keep this in mind also."

At this point he was both glaring and smiling at two redheads in Gryffindor, who waved back unabashedly. Dumbledore let loose a heavy and unmistakeable sigh.

"Also, this year the third floor corridor in the east wing on the right hand side is forbidden to all those who do not wish to suffer a most painful death."

Surprisingly there were only a few whispers from the first years, swiftly cut off by the elder students that were eager to eat, and somewhat more familiar with the Headmaster's... eccentricies.

"And now, a final few words before we begin our repast. Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak. Thank you."

As he sat down, large platters of food appeared, and the students immediately began eating, though some squeaked in shock first. The redhead that had fallen before the Sorting was making an especially large pig of himself, shoveling large spoonfuls of potatoes and gravy into his mouth with one hand and taking a bite out of the turkey leg in his other hand every few seconds. Occasionally he would pause to send a heated glare across the room in Harry's general direction, tinged with... betrayal? Idiot... with any luck he'd choke on a bite of meat and die, sparing them the task of dealing with his idiocy later.

Quirrel was absent, having dropped an extremely large book on his foot earlier in the day and having had to retire to the Hospital wing. Snape would be joining him soon, to have his broken nose repaired.

If one payed attention, one could see the way the Headmasters eyes were set on the Sorting Hat... and they were not twinkling.

xxx

A.N.

Not nearly as long as previous chapters, I know, but I honestly couldn't stretch the chapter on any longer... Every time I tried I would take a second look at it and have to scrap it, or realize that the piece I had just written would fit better as the opening for the next chapter or something like that. Vexing.

Anyway, I do have a long term plan in mind for dear Draco... just wait and see.


	6. Chapter 6

Honor among Thieves

Chapter 6

xxx

"HOW DARE YOU!"

The hat ignored the way Dumbledore's voice had risen to ridiculous levels, and the bottle of scotch that shattered on the wall right next to what would have been its ear.

"How DARE you! Potter should have gone to Gryffindor. It's where he belonged! For the past ten years, all of my plans have hinged on Potter being placed in Gryffindor... that was the only reason that I arranged for those Death eaters to attack Gryffindor Manor, and slipped Cornelius instructions on how to silence and paralyze the 'dangerously insane' girl that survived, and even arranged to have the entire line of questioning written out for him. Tell me, hat, why I went through all of that trouble if Potter is in another house entirely, Slytherin of all things!"

He paused, and a contemplative look settled in his eyes.

"You're malfunctioning... that's what it is. Of course, I can't believe I didn't see it before. After all, you were created over a thousand years ago... small wonder that you've begun to..."

"IF you please, Albus... I was the masterwork of _all four_ of Hogwart's founders. I've sorted every student perfectly for the last thousand years, and I'll continue for the next."

"How can you say 'perfect' when Harry is in Slytherin? That is the _least_ perfect outcome I could have envisioned."

"It is where he belonged."

"He belonged in Gryffindor!"

"After living in a house where people would beat him at the slightest sign of 'freakishness'? A house that you yourself placed him in, might I add? The boy is cunning. He learned to be. He is also ambitious. Both are traits that Salazar prized. If I may be so bold... he is what you have made of him. Just as Tom was."

Dumbledore very nearly launched one of the many incendiary charms he knew at the blasted scrap of leather, but swiftly reigned control of himself and didn't dignify the hat with a reply as he slumped down in his chair, eyes going distant as he thought that over. And plotted.

xxx

"Alright you worthless little maggots, listen close and listen good. I'm only going to say the password once, so if you know you won't be able to remember it, make friends with someone who can. Alright brats, everyone got their ears cleaned out? You sure? Alright then, the password is... Cruciatus. Simple and easy to remember for the first month, but it'll be changed monthly. Find a prefect or one of the disciplinary commitee for the new password. And never, ever write down the password and leave it lying about. As a matter of fact, don't write the passwords down at all. We have enough trouble with those Weasley twins without giving them a free ticket to our dorm. Granted, they wouldn't be able to get far in, but they would be able to do more than enough damage. Everyone inside, hurry up, the portal only stays open for a few minutes."

The group of first year Slytherins crowded through the opening in the wall and into a large room, filled with cushy black couches and a couple large tables at the sides. A couple of older students had plates set out at those tables and were eating casually as they studied.

"This is the outer common room. Traditionally, students stick to their own dorms, but on the rare... very rare occasions that a Slytherin makes a friend outside of his own house, that particular student may, if judged worthy, be allowed entry to this common room. No further. You can see that there are three doorways here. The first one leads to the common rooms. The second goes to the library. The third goes to a maze of corridors, rooms, and secret passages that we affectionately call the labyrinth. In the labyrinth is everything you could possibly need... fully stocked potions labs, spare single bedrooms, torture chambers, you name it. Trick is, you have to find them before you can use them, and the walls tend to move around. You can get lost forever in the Labyrinth if you take a wrong turn."

"I think that's quite enough Mister Higgs. It is not your place to torment the naive, innocent minds of the first years."

Snape stepped out of the shadows, dark smirk on his face as he clapped his hand down on the shoulder of the suddenly pale student.

"I believe that would be my job."

"S-sorry... Professor Snape..."

"I suggest you find something else to amuse yourself for the moment. Well? What are you waiting for?"

Higgs scampered away like a frightened rodent, and the Slytherin first years were treated to the sight of a Evil Smirk. None of them knew that it had all been choreographed in advance, and the little snakelings were shaking in their boots. Well... most of them were, anyway. Four were notably lacking any form of nervousness whatsoever.

The first three were, naturally, Potter and his two little girlfriends. As Snape began a menacing lecture as to the duties and responsibilities of those sorted into the Noble Slytherin House, they were holding a muttered conversation in... what language was that? Chinese, Japanese maybe? Snape couldn't quite make it out. The girls _did_ have some slight asian features... but those were mostly cut out by the colors of their hair and eyes. Who'd ever heard of an asian girl with what appeared to be natural red hair and blue eyes? She could easily pass for a Weasley if necessary. He wasn't even going to start on the other one, whose hair was mostly _pink_. And it was, indeed, natural for both of them. There were ways to tell.

Snape's mind shot briefly to certain strictly asian magical creatures that had, on occasion, interbred with humans. Kitsune, for one. That would explain the one girl's fiery red hair and blue eyes, but she didn't appear to have any other of the supposed traits of such a crossbreed. Like the tail and ears of a fox. Then there was the other girl... frankly, it was somewhat obvious that she wasn't completely human. A redheaded, blue eyed asian was a stretch, but still technically _possible_. Pink, however, was not a natural human hair color. However, he was pulling a complete blank on just what could be in her particular lineage. Reading her aura gave him a vague sense of something reptilian... but most crossbreeds from species of such a wildly different nature as humans and any form of reptile would result in horrifying masses of flesh and scales that did not resemble either.

He should know. For a breif phase, the Dark Lord Voldemort had been fascinated with creating such creatures. Snape had sadly never failed to notice, despite his attempts, that after such experiments he would always stroke the scales of his familiar a bit longer and faster than he normally did. It prompted questions that he would really rather not have answered.

And then there was the fourth unaffected serpentling. His own godson, actually. He was just sort of sitting there and staring randomly into space and ignoring everything around him out of apparent disinterest. Why would... oh, right. Lucius' recent and extremely fatal accident down Knockturne. Though it was surprising that any mugger had managed to get the drop on Lucius... unless said mugger was disguised as a young, naive, prepubescent girl... the Prophet had claimed he'd been carrying something extremely volatile and been attacked in a small, dark walkway between buildings. Which one, they had neglected to mention, and there were hundreds to pick and choose from. Draco was obviously still in mourning.

So he got a mental pass while Potter, Saotome, and Musk were given two days worth of detention. After all, he wasn't going to be the first Head of Slytherin in over five hundred years to take points from his own house.

xxx

"... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death. That is, of course, if you're not as useless a lot of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Snapes eyes roved over the class. The atmosphere was... almost perfect. Those three brats and his godson were ruining it again, along with a Gryffindor brat who seemed to be giving him her full and undivided attention. But without the fear. He wasn't quite sure how to react to that

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

The Gryffindor brat's hand shot up into the air. He ignored it.

"Saotome!"

Ranma grunted but turned her head to Snape.

"There is no difference. They're the same thing."

Then she went right back to mumbling with the other two in whatever foreign language they were speaking this time.

"Very well. Musk! What would you do if I told you to fetch me a bezoar."

"I'd either go slaughter a goat or fetch it from the potions cupboard. From the big ceramic jar labeled 'BEZOAR' in thick, bold lettering."

Snape frowned and checked out of the corner of his eye. Yes... the potions cupboard was wide open, and such a jar was prominently displayed. He kicked it shut in mild embarassment that didn't reach his face.

"Potter! What would I get if I mixed an infusion of wormwood with powdered root of asphodel?"

"Dunno sir... we haven't gotten that far through the book yet."

Snape paused. He wanted _so much_ to just give in to his impulses and lambast Potter about not reading the whole book... but he couldn't help it. He was curious.

"'We', Potter? Speaking with royal prerogative now, are we? And how far through the book _are _you then?"

"Er... when I said we... I kinda meant Herb, Ranma, and me. And we're only through to chapter seven."

Snape couldn't help but frown. The brat had a point. The uses of wormwood weren't covered until chapter nine.

"Very well then. In that case, you will have read the page on Frau Helmann's dissertation? What, in her opinion, was the most important ingredient in any potion, and why?"

"Water, sir, to act as a solvent in blending the other ingredients. Without water, you would not have a potion but a blend of powders and paste that may not have mixed thouroughly and would certainly be dangerous to imbibe."

"... Very good Potter." Snape said, looking like he'd just found half a worm in the apple he was eating. "Five points each to the three of you. Well? Why aren't the rest of you writing this down?"

Snape consoled himself with how dissapointed the Granger girl seemed to not have been asked anything. Little know-it-all.

xxx

"Well, this was an interesting week."

The out of the way room was silent for a moment before the three broke out in a unanimous-

"NOT!"

"Seriously, what did we learn?" Harry asked.

"It's possible that they're simply starting slow, and will pick up the pace next week. Or month. Or maybe first year entirely is just to ease the students into using magic."

"Ranma's got a point... but it's also likely that this place just caters to the lowest common denominator."

"In which case it would be wisest to transfer to another magical institution. On the other hand, I have only read of two others in the entirety of Europe, so we would have to learn either French or German."

"... Nah."

"But what could they possibly expect us to learn?"

"Well, Snape's Occlumency lessons were interesting. And it was nice of him to warn everyone about Dumbledore. I don't know about you, but I don't like the idea of people being able to poke around in my head whenever they want. We _also_ learned that Snape doesn't seem to like you. At all."

"Yeah... why is that, I wonder?"

"You _did_ hold him at knifepoint."

"Yeah? Well you put a gun to his head and he doesn't seem too vexed with you!"

"It's possible that he didn't recognize the danger it posed. This wizarding culture is somewhat backwater."

"Yeah... If you consider being locked in the Dark Ages backwater."

"Now, now you two... settle down." Herb interjected, then glanced at Ranma, who had been diligently working on the floor with a paintbrush and a pail of something that was probably some sort of blood the entire time. "And just what are you doing, Ranma?"

"I'm testing something."

Harry took a closer look at the pentagram within a circle of glyphs that Ranma was finishing up with.

"Y'know... that looks like that thing in your book. A lot like it. Too much like it. You're going to make a zombie aren't you."

"Maaaybe."

"Where will you get the corpse?" Herb asked, honestly interested. "And where did the blood come from?"

"There's a butcher in Knockturne that sells blood on the side. Human blood is hidden among the buckets of hog and cattle. Illegal practice of course, but any homeless bum who knows about it can go and donate a couple of pints in exchange for enough gold to keep him fed for a month. And a thrifty vampire can apparently make a couple pints of blood last them quite a while. I'm pretty sure he knew I wasn't a vampire, but he didn't ask me any questions about why I wanted it. Not after I flipped him a few extra gold pieces anyway. And the corpse is already sitting there."

They looked. Harry muttered a string of curses in Parsel while Herb just blinked.

"Ranma... that's a dead spider. You are aware of that, right? Just why are you going to the trouble of zombifying a dead spider?"

"You'll see. Step back."

Neither of them hesitated to do so, knowing full well that Ranma wouldn't order them to do so unless it was neccessary. Not too far back, though. They had to be able to intervene if something went wrong.

Ranma muttered something under her breath and touched the wand to the circle of runes. The rune she tapped glowed a fiery red, which spread to the runes and lines next to it. And the ones next to them, until the entire circle was glowing fiercely. The spider twitched, and Ranma immediately trained her wand on it and muttered more under her breath. As it began moving it swelled up, then slowly rolled over. By the time it was on its feet, it was the size of a small dog. Ranma broke the charm she was holding then and stepped back and wiped a few droplets of sweat from her brow.

"Okay, I'll admit it. That was awesome, Ranma."

Herb was fascinated by the thing, as was her little tiger. They probably thought of it as a new toy. Then a trail of drool dripped from the corner of her mouth and was quickly wiped away. Ah. So she was just hungry.

"Why didn't you make it bigger?" She asked, in a tone that was almost a whine.

"Two reasons. First, the book noted that after a certain size, the dead spiders become very difficult to control. Second, this thing right now would be barely an appetizer to you, but if it was any bigger I don't trust you not to eat it when I'm not looking."

"Zing!" Harry chirped happily. Herb frowned.

"Well... touche."

xxx

All in all, Hogwarts was pretty boring. Dumbledore would glare menacingly at Ranma and Herb but be all smiles when Harry turned around, and Snape would bombard Harry with more difficult Potions questions every time they entered his classroom, but aside from that it just seemed to be your average school. That taught magic in a creaky old castle.

Ranma and Herb had become pretty complacent in the classes, lazily doing whatever the teachers had asked of them while reading ahead or doing whatever they wanted. Harry, however, was desperate to find that stone that the beings in his dream had spoken of, and so they had reluctantly agreed to aid him in the endeavor. They now had nearly a dozen large spiders wandering the ceilings of Hogwarts... interestingly, Wizards, like most people, very seldom looked up. Joining them were at least fifty snakes, of common and magical varieties, and Herb's pet Lyme would wander the halls now and again.

None of the discoveries had lead to the stone thus far, but they had found some fascinating things. One of the towers, for instance, had no apparent entry. The door was hidden, and couldn't be found from the outside unless you knew that it was there. If you leaned against the entry, expecting it to just be a wall, it would only be a wall. Once you knew that there had to be a hidden door somewhere, though, things got a lot easier.

Then there was the kitchens. They had found them by accident, actually. Harry had stumbled and brushed against the painting of a bowl of fruit, eliciting an odd sound. They'd stopped there, uncaring that it would make them late to their next class, and examined the painting closer. Eventually the secret was found, tickling the pear, and it opened to show the kitchens, being worked in by hordes of small, brownish creatures. They called themselves House Elves... but didn't object when Harry decided to call them Brownies, a term from a muggle fairy tale he'd once read.

Then there was a haunted girl's restroom. Aside from its occupant, Myrtle, there didn't seem to be anything special about that room, but the snakes insisted that it was important somehow. They made a note of it for later and further investigation.

Then Halloween rolled around. More specifically, the Halloween feast.

xxx

"TROLL! Troll in the dungeons!"

Quirrell, who had burst in with this proclamation at the height of the feast, was the center of the stunned halls attention as he panted for breath.

"Thought you ought to know..." Then he fainted.

Instant pandaemoneum. After a few minutes, Dumbledore launched some firecrackers from his wand and got at least some attention from the unruly mob.

"Prefects, lead your students back to their dormitories. The Professors will deal with this matter."

As the Prefects lead their students out of the Great Hall, a conversation started.

"Did you see Leather Panties with the rest of the Gryffs?"

"No, Harry."

"I heard she was crying in the second story girls bathroom."

Harry frowned at Herb's input.

"That's... not good. I don't think she knows about the troll."

"She is on the second floor, and it is in the dungeons." Ranma interjected. "She should be perfectly safe if she heads to the Great Hall or her dorm after leaving."

"What if she doesn't, though?"

"Harry... I think you're going a little overboard about this. Are you suggesting that we go rescue the girl?"

"No... well... maybe just a little. C'mon, Herb... we can't just leave her be and hope the troll doesn't find and kill her."

"I can." Ranma helpfully interjected.

"_WE_ can't though. Right, Herb?"

"..."

"I said, _right, Herb?_"

"Oh all right, fine. We'll go save the little braniac. Stupid hero-complexed little punk."

"I heard that!"

xxx

Hermione's red-rimmed eyes looked up as someone, or actually a group of someones, opened the door to the bathroom she was crying in, hustled quickly inside, then slammed the door shut and locked it. Then sent several locking and strengthening charms at it for good measure... those were at least second-year level!

"Well how was _I_ supposed to know the damn thing was wandering this floor? They said it was in the dungeons!" Came a hissed male voice. A familiar one.

"Harry? What are you doing in the girl's..."

"Keep your voice down, you dumb bint!" Came another familiar voice. One she flinced at this time... Ranma.

"Long story short, there's a troll in the hallway."

Hermione blinked slowly.

"If you guys came to cheer me up because I have no friends, you should have picked a less ridiculous way."

_**BOOM!**_

Hermione's eyes widened and she popped her head out of the stall to see a really huge dent in the door. A second one joined it moments later, and she screamed.

Ranma put a silencing charm on her.

"Annoying wench. Harry, about how tall was the troll?"

"I don't know. In case you didn't notice, I was slightly more preoccupied with getting out of range of its club!"

"Tch... useless. How about you, Herb?"

"I'd say... somewhere around eight and a half to nine feet tall."

"That's better. Not as close an estimation as I'd prefer, but better."

Ranma removed her handgun from wherever it was that she kep it when it wasn't needed, ignoring the way Hermione's eyes widened and she mouthed _'that's a GUN!'_ over and over. Ranma switched the bullets to Armor Piercing rounds, stood in front of the door, now bulging inwards, and took careful aim.

**Blam.**

The bullet drilled a tiny hole through the door as it continued on, and after a moment of silence, there was a loud thumping noise as something large and heavy smacked to the ground. The troll, obviously.

Now the only problem was that the door was too bent out of shape to open. They would be stuck there until the teachers came... or at least they would, if whoever had built the castle hadn't been so kind as to put in a window to the bathroom.

Hermione screamed silently as they dropped to the ground from the second story window, slung casually over Herb's shoulder. Once they hit ground, they darted towards the main school entrance, where they would drop Hermione off and remove the silencing charm... after applying judicial threats to keep her mouth shut.

xxx

Dumbledore was fuming again. After the Troll Incident, there had been a distinct sense of unease floating through the staff. Two questions had been prevalent... first, how had the troll gotten in? There were all sorts of wards on Hogwarts to prevent such a happenstance. A fully grown monster of a troll like this shouldn't have been able to come within miles of the castle unaided.

Then the question that made them even more nervous had risen... just what had happened to it? Oh, yes, they knew in _general_... the troll had caught something or someone in the bathroom, and the person or thing it had caught had managed to kill it... through a thick, steel, enchanted door? Whatever had been done had punched a tiny hole through the metal door, and left a similar hole in the troll's forehead. The back of its head, however... had exploded violently outwards. What kind of a spell could do such a thing? And there weren't any witnesses either, as that particular patch of hallways were devoid of portraits or statues, none of the ghosts had been near, and the bathroom itself had been mysteriously empty. So they were reduced to guesswork.

A reductor curse could not have so much as smudged that particular door. The stone walls around it, certainly, but not the door. The more powerful Bombarda would have almost as little effect. This stunk of dark magic. And fireworks, oddly enough. What dark spell left a lingering scent of fireworks behind? He'd have to look that up. In any case, dark magic of any kind would definitely be beyond the reaches of anyone below Fifth year level. So that left the possible suspects as sixth and seventh year students... and the staff itself.

There were more than a few suspicious looks being passed between certain of the professors these days.

Even so, it was still _possible_ that the culprit had been a student, or even an intruder upon Hogwarts grounds... but why would an intruder come, just to kill a rampaging troll, then leave? It made no sense. Had an intruder _released_ a rampaging troll into Hogwarts halls, that would be one thing, and have precedent, but this? This was an action that seemed to be completely bereft of logic. And while most wizards chose to discard both that and common sense when they began to learn magic, Albus Dumbledore held logic quite highly.

He would spend the next couple of weeks gathering information on just who had and hadn't been in the Great hall that night. Everyone below Fifth year was dismissed from the list automatically, of course, but a good chunk of the upperclassmen had, for whatever reason, chosen to have the house elves bring them a meal elsewhere, rather than in the great hall. Granted, they all had seemingly innocent reasons for this, and well constructed alibis, but the fact was that most of those who had chosen to do so were Slytherin and had mastered Occlusion to the point that he could not enter their minds without permission, and he could not legally ply them with Veritaserum, and so they could not really be absolved of guilt. This puzzle held his attention for a while.

And then the winter holidays came, and to his surprise, Harry Potter chose not to spend them at Hogwarts.

xxx

"Why are we doing this again?" Herb asked as the train pulled out of the station in Hogsmeade.

"Well... that letter from the goblin stating Urgent Business for Baron Potter... 'Acquiring' things for my experiments..."

"Corpses, you mean."

"Yes, if you must know, corpses. Preserved properly so that we can smuggle them back into Hogwarts without anyone noticing. Or we could torment Harry's relatives. Take your pick."

Harry grinned. He was looking forward to it... but wait... he still couldn't use Light magic until he found that stone. Dammit! Still... Herb and Ranma were far more creative than he was. Good enough. He'd just watch them, then.

"One thing though, you two. Could I borrow your wands for a moment?"

Herb passed hers over immediately. Harry hesitated a moment at the odd request, but eventually passed it over. There was an odd tingle as the wand left his fingers, and he was left wondering just why he'd been so reluctant to let go of the thing. If it had been his knife, he could understand... but at this point the wand was just a flashy toy to him.

"Most wizards keep their wands about them at all times." Ranma stated, as she pulled a couple of vials and a shallow dish out from somewhere within her robes. "So if someone was to place a tracking or monitoring charm... placing it on someone's body would be noticed immediately. It wouldn't make sense to put it on a set of clothes or any object that they can't guarantee their target would have on them at all times. The wand though..."

"I see..." Herb muttered. "And that stuff will destroy the tracking charms?"

"No, actually. Instead, it will absorb the charms, and once we're done we can use it to send whoever placed them on a wild goose chase. Just slip it in someone elses luggage when we get off at King's Cross."

Herb seemed to accept this, but Harry was still extremely confused.

"Wait... why is all this even neccessary in the first place?"

They just gave him the look. The 'I can't believe someone could possibly be so stupidly naive' version. After a moment, he got it.

"Oh. This is about that whole 'Boy-who-Lived' thing, isn't it."

Herb snickered. Only Harry could refer to having been targeted for personal assassination as an infant by a powerful wizard and surviving against all expectations as 'That Boy-who-Lived thing'. Ranma, however, was less than pleased.

"Whether you like it or not, you're famous to these people. They're going to be watching you, and anyone close to you. Doing whatever they can to dig up dirt and gossip on us. And we have a lot of dirt, if they know where to dig, and how. We just have to keep one step ahead of them."

Then she poured the potion over the wands in the dish. As it touched them, they began giving off sparks wherever the potion touched, even as the dish was filled to the point that they were completely submerged. Ranma's wand, the Ebony one with a unicorn tail hair for a core, gave off the fewest sparks and stopped fastest. Herb's wand, made of Yew with an unusual core of powdered dragonscales, gave of a few more sparks than Ranma's and stopped swiftly after hers did.

After several minutes passed and Harry's wand still showed no sign of stopping, or even slowing down with the frequency of sparks, they decided to just leave the dish on the floor until it stopped.

An hour and a half passed before it did, and Harry sheepishly grinned as they tugged their wands out of the dish, then sealed the congealing mixture back into the vial.

When they disembarked from the Express and passed through the barrier into the nonmagical portion of the station, it was the work of seconds to slip the vial into a passing luggage trolley. They didn't know it, but the particular bag they had slipped it in would continue on the train to an airport where it would be handled onto an airplane bound for Brazil.

Dumbledore would be most vexed with the situation.

xxx

"Ah, Baron Potter. Excellent to see you respond so promptly."

"Yes, well Griphook. I was interested to hear about this urgent business your letter spoke of. Most interested."

"Ah... this meeting is to be short and blunt, then. But good news nevertheless... the Arena has recieved enough interest from certain parts of society that it will soon be coming back into full and public use."

Harry, in full business mode, immediately recognized the full meaning of the subtle message.

"And you wish me to ask Herb to battle in the Arena again?"

"No. Well... not unless she wants too, anyway. I will not deny that certain parties would most enjoy seeing her battle again, but I wished to discuss a different matter. Rather than one on one deathmatches, the main sport of the Arena will be in pitting teams of gladiators against each other. These teams will come in two forms... they can be hand selected by the sponsor of the team, who will be paid for every win for his team, or they can be chosen by an impartial goblin, from what we have available. Goblin warriors, the occasional dwarf who would rather their gold be stained with blood than dirt, what available slaves we have, thrill seeking wizards, criminals given to us from either the ministry or our contacts in the muggle world... the list goes on."

Harry stroked his cheek thoughtfully.

"I am reminded of the great Roman Colosseum, a fascinating ruin."

"Bah! For a moment, Baron, I had almost forgotten you were Muggle-raised. If you think the Colosseum ruins that the muggles raised and visit is a grand construct, then I simply must arrange to show you the one that we Goblins built! It shall be a sight you will never forget."

"I look forward to it. Tell me more."

"Ah, yes... the Colosseum. Tales are still told of those days among the goblins you know. The Arena is all well and good, but it just lacks a certain... something. Imagine, if you will Baron, the scene. A dozen warriors, each powerful in their own right, walk out onto the glistening white sands. The bloodthirsty mob of an audience cheers raucously, and they take a bow, before preparing themselves for battle. At the other end of the pit a gate opens, allowing large red eyes to gleam in the darkness before their foe emerges, slowly. It is a fully grown dragon, and some of the less courageous of the warriors begin to sweat, knowing that this will be their most challenging battle yet.

The archers open fire, sending volley after volley of arrows at the dragon. Most are deflected off the things hard scales and bony ridges, but they distract it enough for the wizard to launch a blast of magic towards its vulnerable eyes. The dragon sees the spell coming, cannot dodge, but can move enough so that the spell is partially deflected. Still, it has done enough, and one of the great beast's eyes is ruptured and blind. It ignores the arrows now, and goes straight for the wizard, who is desperately launching spells in a vain attempt to extend his own life. The warriors rush the dragon, but most of their weapons bounce ineffectively off its scales. A swipe of its front claw takes out two of the warriors, a gout of flame another three, and it has made it to the screaming, terrified wizard. Enraged, it bites him in half. But while it does so, it leaves an opening, and one of the archers drops his bow in favor of a fallen warrior's spear. Rushing the dragon from its blind side, he plunges the spear into the ruined socket, deep into the creatures brain. It screams in agony, flailing up into the air as it releases a final gout of flame, then crashes to the ground dead, the panting gladiator standing victoriously over its carcass. Then an arrow whistles in and buries itself to the fletchings into his neck. One of the remaining archers has decided he does not want to split the winnings for this battle so many ways, no. He wants to take it all for himself.

The act sparks chaos among the still living warriors, as they drop their bows and draw steel on the beings that were until a moment ago their trusted comrades. The crowds cheers redouble as they lay into each other. In the end, only one of the archers remains standing, looking around, and counting the fallen corpses. Then he is felled from behind by the final member of their team, dropping to his knees as a poisoned bolt sinks into his back. He turns his head and the crafty Goblin rogue slinks out of the shadows, where he has been waiting for his opportunity from the beginning of the match, and is already recocking his trusty handheld crossbow. The Human tries to mouth something, but only blood spills from his mouth as the Goblin levels the crossbow and holds the bolt only inches from his eye. Then he pulls the trigger, claiming victory, prestige, and the gold in one fell swoop."

Harry brushed a tear off his face as he smiled. Sure the story was horrifying, but the way Griphook had told it had made it beautiful... in a bloody way. Yeah, he definitely needed to start enlarging his circle of friends.

"That is an old story, about a real battle in the Colosseum, exactly how it happened. The Goblins keep that story alive because we find it amusing. And those outside our kind that care to learn from this tale find themselves to be in a much better position to deal with our race as a whole. It is not that we are crafty, spiteful, greedy, and treacherous by design. It is simply our nature. We cannot help it any more than a Vampire can help his cravings for blood, or a Werewolf can help its transformation, or a House-elf can help its unnatural bent for servitude. We are simply, as a race, bloodthirsty and untrustworthy. Once the people who deal with us know this, and we know that they know it, things tend to progress much more smoothly."

Harry nodded slowly, obviously considering something else.

"Griphook... How much, I wonder, would it cost to get the Colosseum up and running again?"

"Monetary-wise? It wouldn't make a dint in your coffers, Baron. I'll admit, so long as it goes no further than this room, that many Goblins would happily work for free on such an undertaking. The problem is rather more political in nature... the Colosseum was shut down centuries ago by a ruling from the Honorable Wizengamot deeming it 'A Horrible, Bloody, Criminal place promoting Slavery, Dark Magic, and the Foulest of Murderers'. Interesting, is it not, that the Wizengamot forgets entirely about the issue of slavery when House-elves come up, and their own creature comforts are threatened. Also interestingly, before that time, Dark Lords and their minions were more of a different political party, similar to the Seelie and Unseelie courts of the Fae, rather than the clear danger to society that they are today. With one, legal, outlet for their aggressions gone, they had to turn to others. No offense, but I have found you wizards to be a hypocritical and untrustworthy lot, where our kind are at least straightforward in the matter that we cannot be trusted."

"No offense taken, I assure you."

"But in any case... unless that ruling is overturned, I'm afraid there will be no legal way that we can get the Colosseum back up to full order. But in any case, back to the business at hand. What I am going to suggest, Baron, is that you sponsor a team for the Arena. We have quite a number of prospects to choose from, and I believe this could make the both of us a great deal of money."

xxx

A.N.

Alright, this chapter is slightly shorter than average, but I've been working on introducing a couple of plot themes. The Arena, and later, the Colosseum, will play a big part in the story.

Also, I recently discovered that Manipulative!Dumbledore is actually Canon. Wow. And for those of you who have read Deathly Hallows (I actually haven't, but I've heard about bits of it and will soon), Griphooks explanation of the nature of Goblins should strike a chord. He's just being nice about it now so that if he decides to stab Harry in the back one day he can shrug and say 'Told you so'. And really, it just makes sense, doesn't it?

Definitely going to have to pick up a copy of Deathly Hallows soon, though... or just cheat and see if someone posted it on the internet where I can get at it for free. ;P


	7. Chapter 7

Honor among Thieves

Chapter seven

xxx

Midway through the flight, a specific airplane hit a pocket of exceptionally nasty turbulence. In the baggage section of the plane, a certain vial slowly vibrated out of the sack it was in and fell, rolling across the floor to a stop with another set of luggage. When the plane landed, one of the baggage handlers idly stuffed it into a side pocket as he examined the card attached to the luggage and set it back down.

It would be there for the layover, then continue on another international flight from Brazil to Alaska.

xxx

"Wait, the goblins want us to do what now Harry?"

Herb was obviously stunned, and Ranma was discomfited with the notion.

"Not gonna happen. No. I admit, I enjoyed fighting in the Arena, and I wouldn't mind doing it again. But I have no intentions of going through this kind of effort when I'm not even going to get to kill stuff myself."

Harry groaned and muttered something darkly under his breath.

"Alright, lets make it a vote. Herb votes no, and has explained why. It's just not personal enough for her. I'm voting we go ahead with it."

Both heads turned towards Ranma, who was flipping through the documents. Evidently she found things she liked, because when she looked up she nodded.

"The money is good. I say we go for it."

Herb pouted as Harry cheered at the success.

"Alright fine... we'll pick out a group of people that, unless they turn out to be incredibly lucky, we can watch die in the Arena. Y'know what, this sounds like it might be a little fun after all."

xxx

"Ah, Baron. Back already? And Miss Musk, Saotome, it is a pleasure to see you as well. Then you have made your decision?"

"Yes... and we three have come to a unanimous agreement on the matter. We will be investing in a squad of gladiators for the arena."

"Splendid! Now I can make arrangements for a fully trained goblin warrior, but for the other five... we shall have to make a trip to the Slave Pits."

Ranma was suddenly very interested, even if she didn't show it, as Griphook rose and led them to the lower levels of Gringotts.

"Naturally, while the primary purpose of this visit is for Arena-fodder... excuse me, _Gladiators_... please don't hesitate to let me know if you see a being you simply cannot leave without. The slaves are all bound with ancient Goblin magic in their collars, rendering them completely docile and subservient to their master. We have all breeds, for all purposes! Arena-fodder, bodyguards, tutors, spies, pleasure... well, perhaps you are a bit young yet to be needing bed-slaves, Baron. But we have slaves for every need imaginable. Need a house built? There are muggles, gnomes, and dwarves trained in engineering, masonry, and carpentry that can build you a mansion in days, with the proper materials. Need to learn how to use a weapon other than your wand? Buy a dwarf to teach you how to best make use of an axe, or a centaur to teach you the proper use of bows and arrows. You just need bits of someone for a dark ritual you're planning, or just to jump in front of a curse for you should the need arise? We have the scum of muggle society pumped in here by the hundreds, criminals, the homeless, people that will not be missed. When most people think of the Goblin's crowning achievement, they think of the bank. But the Slave Pits... Ah... And here we are, Baron."

Griphook ran one long, scaly finger down the jamb of a door carved out of stone, and it slowly creaked open, revealing...

Griphook was rather dissapointed. Usually, just hearing about the Slave Pits wasn't enough to prepare a human for it mentally. The sights, the sounds, the smells... they would stumble backwards in horror, go green in the face, gag as they tried to hold back vomit.

Not one of these three had done so much as twitch. But although dissappointing on a personal, vindictive level, that was a very good sign on a professional level. He very much doubted that he would be hearing news that one of these three had made a mistake in dealing in one of their slaves... any mistake would promptly be taken advantage of, as the only way for the slaves to be freed was for their owner to die. They could be sold to another while the owner lived, but they couldn not be freed.

And a living customer was one who might come back to buy more slaves.

After a momentary lull as the nearby slavemasters took in the appearance of the new customers, the cries started up.

"A muggleborn wizard, took out a loan that he couldn't repay! A perfect tutor to get your school grades right up, he was top of his class in-"

"Troll infants! Get em young and when they grow up they'll still be the stupidest things you'll ever see, but they'll happily thump whoever you tell them to!"

"I've got a dozen Summer Faerie here, captured during one of the raids of the Winter Court of the fae, I can let you have them very cheap..."

"A fully grown male Centaur... not to worry, he's already been gelded and is very tractable!"

"Werewolf! Come from pureblooded wizard stock, but once he got bit his parents sold him off cheap, so's I can pass the savings on to you!"

Herb tried to hide it, she really did, but her entire demeanor shifted at the mention of the young werewolf. If she was a cat, her ears would have perked up, and if she was a dog her tail would be wagging. Ranma groaned... she really should have seen this coming.

"Show me this werewolf."

The... Gnome? Or maybe it was a shrunken, shriveled up human like Happosai and that Joketsuzoku matriarch had been... grinned at the sure sell.

"I'll have him brought out promptly Madam. Pierre, the wolfling! Now then, why don't you take a minute to peruse the rest of my wares? I'm sure you'll find something that interests you."

Herb sat back on a stool to wait, but Ranma and Harry cast a jaundiced eye over the cowering figures in the cells. There was a small, six foot tall troll in a cell all its own, and it was... the slavemaster cracked a whip at it, causing it to move its hand away from what it had been fondling.

"OY! Stop that, you great lump! I do apologise Sir, Madam. You'll occasionally... you put that loincloth back on right now, you hear me! The good customers don't need to be seeing that! Like I was saying, you'll occasionally find a troll what, rather than thumping everything that moves, ends up chasing down everything it sees for... ah... different purposes. You don't be wanting this one, trust me."

They nodded. Harry was grimacing in disgust, but Ranma just moved on to the next cell, filled with humans. She blinked.

"Well well... This is ironic, now isn't it? Take a look in here Harry, Herb. I'm sure you'll recognize our old friends Jim and Jessica."

"The names are JAMES! AND! JESSIE! Is that so hard to remember, twerps!?"

The slavemaster's whip quickly silenced the two of them and sent them scurrying back to the bars as Harry and Herb came in for a closer look.

"Why so they are... aren't they the ones from that Rocket Prostitution place that chased us all over Ireland, Ranma?"

"The very same."

"... Can I eat them?"

"No, Herb. No, I think I have a better idea. How much for these two?"

"These? Let me think."

The Gnome-thing slavemaster made a great show of scratching his head and pondering the notion.

"Well they're rather worthless, so it's not like anyone else is going to buy them from me. And it seem's you've prior experience with these two, so you'll know just how much of a thorn in my side these pests are. Add to it that they're Muggles, and there are billions of Muggles out there, so it's not like they're really unique or valuable in their own right. I'll give you the both of them for ten sickles."

An evil smile crossed Ranma's face as she slowly counted out out the money.

"A fair bargain... however you have mistaken my intentions, slavemaster. For these ten sickles, I will only ask that you move them, permamently, into the cell with the troll."

The two slavers-turned-slaves blanched in horror as the slavemaster accepted the money, grin widening and revealing butter-yellow, rotting teeth as he let out a hearty guffaw of laughter and waved another of his aides to make the transfer immediately.

"NO! DEAR GOD, NO!"

"You little twerps! We'll get you for this, mark my words!"

"EEEEEE! DEAR GOD, IT'S HUGE! JESSIE! GET IT AWAY FROM ME!"

"AND DRAW ITS ATTENTION TO ME? YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN THIS TIME, JAMES!"

There was a loud ripping noise.

"MY PANTS! NO! THAT IS NOT A TOY! GET THAT AWAY FROM THERE! NO! NOOOO! NOOOOOOO!!"

They turned away, easily blocking out the ensuing noises. Harry was slightly green, but Ranma gave off no hint of emotion aside from a smug smirk and Herb was grinning widely as she spoke up.

"Let it never be said that those of the Musk Dynasty, even if not by blood, cannot devise _fitting_ punishments."

"IT DOESN'T FI-IIIIIIII-IT AT AAAAAA-L! OH GOD THE PA-AAAAIIIII-IN!"

"Someone shut him up... never mind, I'll do it myself. _Silencio_!"

James was still trying to make his discomfort with events obvious... and what a pain in the ass it was... but none of his screams left his throat. Jessie, wisely, kept her mouth shut in the hopes that if she was quiet, the troll would forget about her and focus fully on James. So far, it seemed to be working.

"Ah, here comes Pierre with the wolfling now Madam. Would you care to inspect him yourself, or should we move directly on to finalizing your purchase."

"I'll inspect him if you please."

Herb carefully masked her excitement as she got a good look at the young werewolf. He could well have been Mint's twin. Two retainers down, nearly a thousand left to go, and then all she would need was a castle and village near some ancient, horribly cursed springs and she would be back in business.

She made a great show of holding his mouth open to inspect his teeth, prodding his muscles, and looking very closely at his eyes and fingernails before pronouncing a curt 'He'll do'. All three were hard pressed to mask their amusement, and Harry was had to grit his teeth to hold back the snickers. The young werewolfs expression just made things worse.

"Alright madam, this one I cannot part with for anything less than thirty galleons. It would be less, but given how rare it is for a werewolf to be sold rather than simply turned loose, then added to the fact that this one is so young and has at least a good decade or two of service in him..."

"I quite understand. And please, accept a little extra for your trouble."

The gnome-man... Man-Gnome?... happily snatched up the gold, all smiles. Oh yes... Harry was an excellent barterer, and when she wished, Ranma could certainly wring an ice-cream vendor for far more than he probably intended to give, but Herb was master of Noblesse Oblige. Regal, fine spoken, and _very_ free with coin... shopkeepers would fall all over themselves to please her, in the hopes that she would return.

Griphook coughed lightly to get their attention.

"If we are finished here? We have a little ways to go yet before we reach the area with slaves that are properly trained for battle. Unless, of course, you would prefer to browse for a few more household servants? We have all the time in the world."

Herb considered this for a moment before snapping out of her seat with an artistic flourish.

"Very well, to the warriors it is. Come, Mint."

The young werewolf was terribly confused until Ranma took pity on him.

"That would be you, kid."

"But my name is..."

"Your name is Mint now, kid. I'd get used to it if I was you."

xxx

Their first selection of Gladiators was a surly redheaded Dwarf. If the slavemaster was to be believed, he had actually gotten drunk and bet his freedom on a good hand in a game of poker. Obviously, the hand hadn't been quite good enough. A decent battleaxe with only a couple of nicks in it, a dingy, slightly dented helmet, and a dwarf-sized set of rusty chainmail and he was well sorted. The total cost, of both him and his equipment, was something like fifty five galleons.

The second was a Centaur with a spotted hide and hair to match. Apparently, she'd been raised in captivity, as her dam had been captured with foal somewhere on the continent and had given birth in the cell. They purchased her, a slightly cracked longbow, a quiver of cheap arrows, and a long strip of cloth for her to wrap around her breasts for close to forty galleons. The slavemaster offered, as a joke, to throw in a used riding blanket and full set of tack for only a few knuts more. They took him up on his offer before he could retract it.

The third was a Veela. Usually such a species would be relegated to be sold as a bedslave, but it was explained that this one was exceptionally violent, especially in the throes of passion. Her upset owners had repeatedly returned her, covered in scars and burn marks, until they had decided to move her to a different section of the Pits. She needed no weapon. Once her hands were removed from the guantlets stuffed with magically flame retardant power and the second collar that suppressed her avian side were removed, she _was_ a weapon. She cost forty galleons.

The fourth was a male vampire with long black hair tied back with a leather strap that hung close to his knees who had apparently been of the Muggle aristocracy sometime in the late fourteen hundreds. He had rampaged for hundreds of years unchecked in the muggle world before being brought down, and would have died permamently had the one who staked him not barely missed his heart. A nearby Goblin, smelling opportunity, had offered to heal him in exchange for his freedom. The count had agreed, but promptly fled before he was completely healed and bound into servitude. The goblins had spent nearly a full century tracking him down. His response to questioning him on why he had bothered trying to run in the first place had been a cheeky grin and 'Vell, I had to try, did I not?' A rapier was purchased for him cheaply, as he himself cost something close to two hundred and fifty galleons, given that he was closing on being five hundred years undead, the date where he could be considered an 'Elder' vampire.

The fifth, and last, was a silver-haired Fae from the Unseelie Winter courts. Nobody could tell if he was male or female, and she refused to volunteer that information. What he would let on though was that she had been the court Jester. The queen had found one of his jokes most unamusing. She was banished from the Fae realms of Winter for the rest of eternity. Sure, he could still go to the Summer realms... the problem was that every single Fae there would happily obliterate her for the trespass. The whole longstanding eternal war between the Summer and Winter courts and all. The Jester had cost a hundred galleons, and had assured them that he/she could acquire his/her own weapons.

So, in total, that was near five hundred galleons for a suitable squad of gladiators-slash-bodyguards. Although they made for an interesting squad dynamic. Right now they were in a large waiting room near the arena, awaiting Griphook's promised goblin warrior and sixth member of the squad. The dwarf was grumbling to himself as he ran a large whetstone over his new axe. The Fae was quietly juggling several colorful balls in the corner and watching, amused, as the dwarf repeatedly brushed off the Veela's not-so-subtle flirting. The Centaur was blushing heavily as the Vampire made the rounds of the room, flirting with just about everyone. In the past ten minutes he had 'propositioned' the Veela, the Fae, the Centaur, Ranma, Herb, Mint, _and _Harry, and had looked like he was considering doing so with the Dwarf as well until a heavy, bearded growl made him back off.

He had settled down a little after Ranma threatened to geld him. Personally. Though at first he had attempted to call her bluff only to realize, in a grim sort of horror, that it wasn't a bluff as she removed Harry's old knife from wherever in her robes she'd been keeping it, and began to sharpen it. Now he was sitting on a stool in the corner, legs crossed and hands in his lap, and even paler than was normal for a vampire. Every so often his eyes would flick to Ranma and she would smile. With teeth. He would shiver horribly and avert his eyes.

The door opened and Griphook walked in, followed by a slightly shorter goblin in leather armor, with a small crossbow and dagger at his... _her_ hips.

"This is my niece, Hookergrope. She will fight and die for your squad. At this point, Baron, the team sponsor usually gives a few encouraging words before the first match."

Harry considered that for a moment, before finding an apt sentiment.

"You were expensive." He said slowly. "So if you die out there, I assure you, I will hire a necromancer to raise your corpses so I can have the opportunity to have you flogged to death."

"A bit more blunt than most, Baron, but still excellent. Now, if everyone who isn't going to fight in the Arena would please step this way? And might I suggest you take a moment to withdraw a little more gold? It is considered sporting to bet heavily on ones own team."

xxx

"Ladies and Gentlebeings... Welcome, to the Arena! You've come to see a bloodbath, and tonight our gladiators will fight and die for your amusement and betting pleasure. And now for the first match. An untested team sponsored by a Baron who has requested to remain nameless..."

Pictures of the team and their preferred weapons of choice and all appeared on one side of a large board above the arena as well as on sheafs of parchment that had been handed out throughout the crowd.

"_Versuuuus_ a group of Twenty... whoops, excuse me, Nineteen Muggles diagnosed with Homocidal Schitzophrenia armed with bits of wood, scissors, meat cleavers, broken bottles, and just about everything that could be found in your average home and used as a weapon! Ladies and Gentlebeings, please place your bets now."

The odds were pretty good for both teams. On the one hand, the team that Harry had sponsored was probably more dangerous. On the other, the Muggles were completely fucking nuts and so were unpredictable, giving them a slightly better payout if they won. The counter on them dropped to Eighteen during the ten-minute wait, while Harry placed a two thousand galleon bet on his team.

"Ladies and Gentlebeings, all bets are now closed. Let the match begin! Open the gates!"

As the gates ground open, Harry's squad took up a defensive position just outside their opening, the Centaur and Hookergrope shooting off arrows and bolts respectively. Three of the muggles dropped just out of the gates and another three dropped halfway across the pit, leaving only twelve as the Dwarf, Veela, and Vampire rushed to meet the enemy. It was brutal... and short. The Dwarf was hacking the muggles apart with his axe, the Vampire slitting throats, and the Veela just plain tearing people apart as Hookergrope and the Centaur would pick targets off as they got a clear shot and the Fae made a nuisance and distraction of itself by tossing rubber balls into the fray and swatting away the one Muggle who got too close to the archers with a huge mallet.

The only injury sustained by the squad was by the dwarf, who lopped the knees off one of the Muggles and turned to deal with another one only to be stabbed in the calf with a pair of scissors by the one he'd neglected to finish off. He remedied that problem instantly and spared a second to jerk the weapon out, but was now walking with a pronounced limp and one of his footprints was bloody.

It was down to the last Muggle now, and there was an audible mix of groaning and cheers through the audience, depending on who had bet on who, as the vampire jumped him from behind and sank his fangs into her throat, draining her dry, and then causally tore her head off with his bare hands. Harry's squad was bloodstained, but victorious, and Harry's bet had earned him a profit of a thousand galleons. He turned to Griphook, who had himself made a rather large bet on his team, and was smirking.

"I would like to request a list of the Potter family Estates."

xxx

_Number six, Godric's Hollow. Status: Under Fidelius_.

It was also apparently a burned out husk. No.

_Castle Potter. Status: Heavily Warded. Pending minor renovations._

A castle. Neat. Sadly, it was probably the first place anyone would look to find them once they discovered Ranma's little deception with the vial. Also, a castle would be a bit large to comfortably live in. No, that was definitely out.

_Le Chateau Blanc. Status: Heavily Warded. Currently inhabited, with permission from James Potter._

Ooh. A castle in France. Or at least he was pretty sure it was a castle... that was what chateau translated to, right? Still, it was too big, and if it was inhabited he didn't really want to have to throw anybody out. Next.

_Number Four, Privet Drive, Surrey. Status: Lightly Warded. Currently inhabited, with permission from Lily Evans Potter._

What. The. Hell? He owned the Dursley's house? He made a note to eventually force the pricks to pay rent. Not that he needed the money... just to torment them.

_The Shack In The Woods, Potter Forests. Status: Unwarded. Currently inhabited with permission from James Potter and Lily Evans Potter. Warning: Do not visit on nights of the full moon._

Okay, this was just getting ridiculous. Next on the list.

_Number Eight, Court Gardens Street, Paris. Status: Unwarded. Apartments For Rent._

That was an apartment building. Not happening. This was becoming tedious.

_Monroe Summer Manor, Scotland. Status: Lightly warded. Unplottable. Muggle repelling wards._

This... this was pretty good. He tapped the section with his wand, causing it to expand swiftly into a detailed description of the place. It was a medium sized mansion, sitting smack dab in the middle of a good hundred acres of land that came part and parcel with it. The nearby forest had grown over a few acres of land, and there was a garden, and a large copse of fruit trees, and a small lake, and it had belonged to the Potter family for over a hundred years and it didn't seem that anyone had entered it in that time except the House-elves.

In short, it was perfect for their needs. And with luck, if anyone started looking for them, they would give up in frustration long before they got this far down the list.

xxx

There was a minor accident with the luggage at the airport in Alaska, and now the luggage with the vial was headed for Hawaii by boat. A group of very confused wizards had begun to search Brazil for any trace of the Boy-who-Lived... it simply wasn't safe for him to be out on his own, without protection. And his friends didn't count.

xxx

"Oh my... Please stop, Count. You're making me blush."

"Truly? But surely zuch an lovely young filly as yourself 'as 'ad 'er choice of strapping young lovers... Non? Not a vone? Vell zen... perhaps ve should remedy this truly sad lack. Tonight, perhaps? Ve can drink champagne under ze stars until dawn, and vatch ze sunrise together..."

"But... wouldn't the light burn?"

The Vampire blinked as he considered that.

"Very vell... perhaps instead, ve could..."

He broke off into muttered whispers into the Centaur's ear, and she grew progressively redder with every word.

"P-please, Count... I'm really... not that kind of filly..."

The vampire shrugged delicately, giving a toothy smile.

"Non? You are sure? Still non? Ah vell... perhaps next time. Ah, 'Ookergrope... 'Ave I ever mentioned just how lovely your scales...?"

"Vampire, do think long and hard about my name and consider where I might have earned it before you go making propositions."

"... I am afraid zat I do not follow."

"I prefer females, bloodsucker."

"AH! Mon Dieu! Such a tragedy! Such a vaste! Such a pity."

He turned to the next in line, the Veela.

"No."

And kept turning, on to the Fae.

"I'm afraid I'm just not interested."

And continued on to the last person in the room. The hairy, bearded Dwarf, who didn't bother to say anything, but immediately removed his axe from where it was strapped to his back and held it threateningly between them. The Vampire pouted artistically, in an attempt to gain sympathy from the females in the room. None came, and he gave a dainty, aristocratic sniff.

"Vell, you are not really my type in any case."

The door swung open and Harry strode in.

"Ah, young master!"

"No."

The Pout returned in full force. Harry just shrugged and tossed a handful of pouches on the table. The jingle of gold caught everyones attention.

"There's a hundred galleons in each of those. Consider them a reward for not proving me wrong about you. Spend them as you wish."

"Yay! Prostitutes!"

Heads swung towards the Count and Hookergrope. Nobody could quite tell which of them had uttered the happy cry, and apparently neither of them knew either, as they were both wearing the same sheepish, embarassed grin.

"Er... zat is... I meant to say... Yay... fancy, yet expensive french food?"

"Yay... gold?"

Harry shrugged.

"For the moment, I'll pretend that I buy that. In any case, good job, blah blah blah, come with me."

The gladiators sweatdropped, but tucked the gold away and followed their young and obviously eccentric owner. He tossed a handful of Floo powder into one of the many hearths and muttered 'Monroe Summer Manor'. The fire flickered, then turned green as he waved them through. The Centaur had a bit of trouble before a helpful goblin snapped his fingers to enlarge the fireplace.

xxx

Something was watching them. Ranma and Herb had been able to tell the second they stepped through the floo. Of course, it didn't seem like whatever it was was threatening or held any ill feelings towards them at all. It might be a House elf, trying to decide whether they were intruders or guests.

The feeling of being watched increased as the bodyguards-slash-gladiators-slash-possible experiment fodder in the event that they should happen to die made their way through the fireplace. Then Harry came through in the rear and everyone there felt something like a click and hum as whatever wards were on the place recognized him as the rightful owner of the place.

There was a small flare of excitement and a small puff of displaced air as something small popped away. The feeling of being watched went with it... definitely a House elf.

The Count cast a jaundiced eye over the room.

"It is dank, dark, dreary, ze vindows are all boarded and painted over, zere are spidervebs in ze corners and a thick layer of dust over everything, I believe I smell mold from ze bookshelves over zere, and I doubt zat anything in 'ere 'as seen ze light of day in decades. In short, zis is everysing I could ask for in a residence. I don't suppose you could make arrangements for a coffin in ze basement?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a high-pitched voice, raspy from disuse... and age.

"There are _many_ coffins within the Manor, slave of the Lord. Both occupied _and_ vacant. It is simply a matter of choosing one to suit your tastes."

An ancient, wizened House elf with thick patches of hair sprouting from odd places and who's brown skin had paled to a near white tone with age hobbled into the room. Rather wearing a tea-towel or a pillowcase or something like that, he was wearing an old, moldy cloak cut down to fit his short frame, and a strange apparatus that held a large, glowing, yellow rock above his head. He dropped to his knees in front of Harry.

"My Lord! I am Gnarl. Minion Master, and devoted servant of Darkness. I must admit, these many centuries without a true Lord have been trying. But Evil always finds a way!"

Everyone in the room was exchanging glances and trying to decide if the batty little House elf might be dangerous. Harry looked closer at the creature, noting something.

"You... aren't a house elf, are you?"

"House Elf?" The thing sounded horribly affronted. "Of course not! I am a _Minion_!"

There was a flash of recognition in the Dwarf's eyes.

"Right... now do explain for me, because I am really quite curious... what, exactly, is the difference between a House Elf and a Minion?"

Gnarl deflated like a punctured balloon.

"Well... I will admit, Lord, that our species are very..._ VERY_ closely related... In fact, there are only truly two main differences. First is that House Elves can breed, and create infant House Elves on their own. Minions can only be created through life-force and magic, and without a Lord to create more of us, we cannot reproduce. Though admittedly our lifespan is thousands of times longer than the House Elves because of that. Second is personality as a species. Kick a House Elf, and it will crawl back to you, whining and begging to be kicked again. Kick a Minion, and it will be just as likely to ignore it and go back to what it was doing as to turn and stab you in the foot!"

"Oh, I get it. So Minions are violent, schitzophrenic House Elves."

"That... Isn't quite what I meant, Lord..."

"Eh.. close enough. So... how do we get the lights working in here."

Gnarl brightened up immediately.

"I'm glad you asked, my lord! This way, this way!"

The Dwarf lagged behind the rest and the Veela brought up a question.

"You seemed to... start at something, when the Gnarl mentioned the word Minion. Care to explain that, my bearded friend?"

The Dwarf hesitated before answering, in a gruff, rumbly, yet educated voice.

"I had not believed the stories, but Dwarven Lore of seven hundred years ago makes repeated mention of Evil Overlords... and their swarms of Minions. One particular story mentioned how an Overlord stole the... mumblemumble... from the Dwarves."

"Ze what? I am afraid I didn't catch zat."

"I said, he stole the... mumblemumble."

"I-"

"The sacred beer kettle of the dwarves of the time, if you must know. This was only decades before the forest elves left these realms for good."

The Veela's lips were pressed tightly together and her cheeks were bulged out with the effort of not laughing. The Dwarf was obviously disgruntled.

"Well, ye got to understand... beer itself, or the good kind, anyway, had only been _invented_ a few short decades before this, and the dwarf that did was immediately named King of the Dwarves. For a short time, there were actually _religions_ created around the process of making the stuff... alright fine, ye can go ahead and laugh now."

She was obviously having trouble holding it back, but in between the violent surges of her shoulders she managed to choke out...

"N-no... P-lease go on... Zis is really... really interesting to me."

The dwarf grunted, but grinned slightly behind his beard.

"Well, ye see... I'd believed that the tales were just myths, due to how similar they were to fairy tales... only in reverse. The Evil Overlord was the protagonist of the stories, going out with a loyal squad of Minions to deal with the Corrupted Heroes of the Land or tripe like that. Now that I've seen proof that at least parts of that particular Lore might be the truth, I'm thinking I might have to take another look at the rest of it."

xxx

A.N.

If any of you people have played Overlord for the Xbox 360, you should recognize Gnarl immediately. I... I'm sorry. I just couldn't help myself. You see, I was playing the game for a while, and when I finished I watched a copy of the Chamber of Secrets video. At that moment it hit me just how similar Gnarl looked to a _really old_ Dobby. I fought the impulse to use that and the minions for several long minutes before I gave in.

And I'm definitely going to get raked over the coals for the randy troll thing. On the other hand, it was really funny when I wrote it, and continues to be funny every time I read it. And I had to tie up a loose end I introduced many chapters back. Does anyone even remember that far? When one of the three, can't remember which at the moment, mentally brings up a 'troupe of collectors for a child brothel' that they spent a good bit of time fleeing from, but doesn't delve any deeper. So I basically cut and pasted THE Jessie and James from that horrible Pokemon anime and devised a suitable end for them. Apologies for anyone that was offended, but feel free to burn me in a review... I'm imagining possible responses now, and almost all of them crack me up.

Anyway, who doesn't love the Count? Come now... you know zat you cannot resizt 'is charms, non? Admittedly, I might have gone a little bit overboard when I had him consider propositioning the Dwarf. Twice. Thank god for battleaxes.

Admittedly, this whole chapter was really more of a joke to myself than anything else, but I'm loving it so much that I'll just have to go ahead and work what _had been_ the plot around it. It's entirely possible that future chapters will now be blatantly heavy on cross-species sexual innuendo. ;P

Review, else I shall have the Count Pout at you! The trembling lower lip, the big, watery puppy dog eyes, you know you will be unable to resist! Spare yourself this fate!


	8. Chapter 8

Honor among Thieves

Chapter eight

xxx

"Sunlight. Blue skies, green grass, wildflowers, soft birdsong... BLEH! It's making me ill!"

"I quite agree, my good Gnarl." The count called from the safety of the shaded porch. "Ve have so much in common. So very much, zat I vould suggest..."

"No."

"Come _on_! Somevone t'row me an bone 'ere. It 'as been nearly an entire veek of abstinence for me! I am going into vithdrawals!"

"Surely you can wait until sundown and buy yourself a few hours with a lady of the night. Or a lad of the night, if your preferences run that way."

The Count childishly stuck his tongue out at Ranma, who had made the sniping comment. Harry was frowning as he looked towards the corner of the property that was covered with forest.

"So, Gnarl... In essence, the manor is in lock-down until this 'Tower Heart' is moved back to the proper position inside?"

"Yes, Lord."

"Why is it called the Tower Heart, anyway? I mean... this is obviously a manor. Shouldn't it be the Manor Heart?"

"Was not always a manor. Was not always flat, level ground either. Long ago, there was a mountain here, with a tower at the peak, where Overlords could see the entirety of their domain at a glance. But meddlesome Heroes would attack, again and again. Sometimes, the Overlord would win. Sometimes, the Heroes would. And Evil always finds a way... but sadly, battles on this kind of scale were difficult on the landscape. The Tower had to be rebuilt many times. And with every battle, more of the mountain crumbled away."

"Yes, yes, I get it. No need for a history lesson. Now, you said the Tower Heart was in there, right? Just a hundred meters or so into the forest?"

"Yes, Lord."

"And you couldn't have... I don't know... sent a group of Minions to get it yourself?"

Gnarl was obviously dumbfounded at the suggestion, considering the way his jaw dropped.

"Without a Lord to empower us, to create more of us when the forest creatures kill us? It would be madness."

"Forest creatures. You mean like... a bear, maybe? A pack of wolves? Perhaps you fear the rabid deer, Minion, or that a squirrel might throw nuts at you?"

Gnarl snarled at Ranma's blatant sarcasm.

"What I fear, witch-child, are the horrifying monsters that have taken root in what was once the domain of the forest elves, but is now better known as the corrupted wood. Centaurs, not the civilized sort, but Feral Centaurs that do no sort of star-gazing or polite conversation, but have given themselves over to their more bestial side and partake of flesh. Sacramentals, the lesser cousins of the horrifying Acromantula... thank Evil that none of _those_ have taken residence in the wood, but their smaller, weaker kin are bad enough. The shades of forest elves that have forgotten their peaceful ways in death, and now ruthlessly guard their broken ruins. The risen corpses of those who have attempted to bypass them to search those ruins for treasure, wandering the wood in their hunger. Werewolves that have forsaken their humanity in favor of the life of beasts. And the list goes on!"

Herb blinked.

"You know, Ranma, he has a point. That doesn't exactly sound like the kind of place to take a pleasant stroll. Well, not for normal people anyway. And if all Minions are as scrawny as this one looks..."

Gnarl snarled again, then broke of into mutterings.

"In any case, only a few Minions survived the last assault by heroes. It was entirely possible that they could enter the forest, collect the Heart, and leave, but I could not take the risk. Should they come across even one of the monsters of the wood, without a Lord..."

"Yes, yes, I get it. So who's coming?" Harry asked.

"I think I'll pass on this one." Ranma answered. "I have a little test that I've been putting off for a while."

"Have fun in the wood, Harry!" Herb chirped.

Harry's eye began twitching.

"I zink, given 'ow very sensitive my skin is to ze sunlight, it would be best dat I stay 'ere and keep ze Mistresses company." Said the Count, looking unreasonably pleased about the decision. Harry couldn't help the evil grin that spread over his face.

"I hope you don't think that those two will be easily swayed by your charms, Count?"

The count looked puzzled by the statement, and turned his head as Harry pointed a finger at the duo. Herb sent a subtle wink his way, then wrapped her arms around Ranma's waist, pressing the baggy shirt to her skin in such a way that showed she was _very_ well developed for an eleven year old. Herb kissed at the base of Ranma's exposed neck, then slowly trailed her tongue up until she was nibbling at Ranma's earlobe. Ranma's face didn't budge an iota, but the thin silk proved that she was either enjoying the attention, or was suddenly very chilly, neither of which was an unreasonable assumption, though Harry knew very well that Ranma had warming charms on all her clothes.

The Count looked like someone had just punted his favorite puppy across the lawn.

"Mon Dieu... my 'eart breaks, the gods themselves veep at zis revealed tragedy. If you vill excuse me, I must track down some vine."

_"I'm not going in there. Hand me off to the redhead before you leave."_

Harry looked as though he had been slapped as he looked down to where the serpent had poked her head out of his shirt.

_"Et tu, Brute? Et tu?"_

_"Wooow. You can quote Ceasar. That_ really_ convinces me to go into the forest of near certain death with you."_

Harry sighed and slowly handed Sistilth over to Ranma.

"If I come back and find out that you've turned her into a zombie, or let Herb eat her, we WILL be having words. Anybody else want to take a moment to ditch me?"

Hookergrope started to raise her hand, but paused as she recieved the full brunt of the Harry Potter Death Glare MK.V. Her hand dropped slowly back to her side and she began whistling nonchalantly. Gnarl waved one of his claws and a glowing hole appeared in the ground, from which crawled three younger versions of himself in loincloths and carrying a heavy stick.

"These are your Minions, sire. Do be careful with them for now... The Tower Heart radiates a very specific frequency of magic... it will only allow you or they to get close enough to move it. If they die... well, you don't strike me as the most physically strong fellow about. Magically, oh my yes, if untrained, but not physically. I myself will be waiting in the manor... I'm afraid that after so long, my old bones aren't quite what they used to be."

Harry sighed and waved him off.

"Right, right... find the Tower Heart, bring it back, don't let the Minions die. Got it."

"I would suggest also doing your best to avoid dying yourself, Sire."

"That... doesn't that go without saying?"

He was answered by silence, and heaved a big sigh.

"Right. Well I'm not a fighter. That's what you guys are here for. _Usually_..." He bit off sarcastically. "... In messes like this, I could count on the two _necking_ over... oh great. Hey Gnarl, chuck a bucket of water at them, will you?"

The ancient Minion saluted, grinning wildly. Seconds later there was a loud clang and splash, followed by two outraged screeches. Harry winced, only now recalling the last time something like this had happened and he'd interrupted. He'd come to in a gothic lolita dress with white stockings and shiny black shoes, wearing makeup and nailpolish and lacy gloves and a collar with a bow on it around his neck, in the middle of a part of Paris famous for housing those of variable sexuality. Not that he thought that they would do anything that would _really_ endanger his purity, but... come to think of it, he was pretty sure that they still had that outfit tucked away in one of Ranma's magic pocket things. They definitely hadn't let him burn the thing, like he'd wanted to. Now, he was almost hoping that he'd die in the wood.

"Anyway, I would usually count on those two to _get me the hell away from danger_. Since they seem to have better things to do, though, that'll fall to you guys now. Not to worry, I am fully skilled in the fine arts of retreat, the techniques of which include running away, running away while screaming my head off, running away silently, and throwing gold and/or food at the bad guys to distract them while I run away."

Sweatdrops had begun to form on the back of the gladiator's heads.

"In the event that we should be ambushed by horrifying, monstrous creatures I'll be right by your sides, lending moral support and maybe tossing a few of the crappy little jinxes from the Hogwarts books around. For as long as it looks like we're winning, anyway. The second it looks like I, personally might be in danger, I'm out of there. You guys can feel free to either join me in my retreat, or nobly sacrifice your own lives to give me a little more running away time."

They were now openly staring at him in disbelief. After a moment, the Dwarf spoke up.

"Ye know lad... Yer inspirational speeches so far... they really suck."

"... Oh. So... I should lie to make you all feel better, even though we all know that I'm going to be completely useless and probably end up doing something stupid that'll bring everything dangerous for miles around down on us?"

"Well... Y'don't have to. But while honesty is nice, in moderation, people tend to prefer that their leaders put up a false front of bravery and at least pretend that they'll be capable of doing something useful."

"I'm midway through my first year of study at magic school. And I'm a Slytherin. What possible use could I be in this situation?"

The Dwarf opened his mouth and extended a finger to counter the point... but drew a blank. A light breeze blew by as he spent several seconds pondering that.

"Ye know what? You're right. You're completely useless. Just... sit on the Centaurs back or something, and try not to fall off and break your own neck."

"NO FAIR!" Came the Count's plaintive yell. "I vanted to be ze first von to ride ze lovely young filly!"

Her face immediately turned cherry red while Harry got a boost from the Dwarf and settled down on her back, inwardly smirking. Slytherin manipulation technique number four hundred and twenty seven... act completely useless, and ninety percent of the time a Good Samaritan type will show up and do your job for you and _you_ wont have to lift a finger. The other ten percent of the time, it may become neccessary to resort to bribes. In which case being rich really helped. His eyes twinkled.

xxx

"My hair is all wet and that little brat thinks he can just leave?"

"Yes... I think that the experiment I had in mind can be put on hold for a little while. Instead, maybe we could..."

"SsssrsSssR slssthsSaassts Sns."

Ranma blinked and looked down at Sistilth.

"That's really fascinating... but I think that you've forgotten that, unlike Harry, neither of us speak Snake. Unless... Herb?"

"I speak Dragon. Not Snake."

"SSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"

Realizing her efforts were futile, Sistilth dropped into Ranma's pocket and went to sleep.

"Alright. Prank time! Whatcha got, Ranma?"

Ranma casually withdrew two coffins the size of matchboxes. With a flick of her wand as she tossed them into the air, they began swelling, and were full size by the time they hit the ground. Herb blinked and took a closer look at the names embossed on the nailed-shut lids.

"This is so evil..." she whispered in an awed tone. "Where did you get these?"

"Well... it's entirely possible that when Harry left us behind to talk to Griphook, and you were napping, I made a little sidetrip. Did you know that the Knight Bus can get just about anywhere in the world in less than ten minutes if you tip them enough?"

"Who cares? Let's get to the zombie making!"

Mint was totally confused by the conversation, but his eyes widened as Herb swiped the dirt off and revealed the golden letters. The names were...

xxx

"Corrupted Wood, eh?" Harry muttered as he glanced around. The trees were full of thick green leaves, squirrels darted along the ground between the wildflowers, and there was a constant tone of birdsong. Harry ignored the frantic shushing motions and uttered a phrase he was soon to regret.

"It doesn't look that bad to me..."

Then everything went pear-shaped. The birdsong stopped. The leaves and flowers withered and died instantly, an eerie mist rose, and the squirrels eyes flashed red as foam began to gather at their mouthes. Long, hairy legs began poking out from holes in the dead trees and the ground, and huge spiderwebs faded into view.

"He just had to say it." The fae muttered under its breath.

"OOH! So THAT'S why they call this place the Corrupted wood!"

"For the love of gold, boy, shut up!" the Dwarf snarled, bringing its axe to bear on the Sacramental leaping for his face, dripping venom from its fangs. The Centaur was already firing arrows at the clicking beasts, the Veela was making good use of her fireballs, and Hookergrope was stabbing a Sacramental repeatedly as it had managed to knock her crossbow out of her claws. The Fae had acquired a bow from somewhere and was firing arrows as well. Granted, they didn't do nearly so much damage as the centaurs as, rather than being tipped with sharp, pointy metal, they ended in a large boxing glove.

"Hey, what's up with that?" Harry called, leaning backwards as one of the trio of Minions swatted a small Sacramental away from where it had been leaping for his face. "Those things aren't going to to any more damage than a weak punch."

"Sadly, Master, my powers are limited on this plane of existence. I can call objects into being, but only with the provision that I know someone watching their use finds it funny."

Harry blinked.

"I'm going to give you a little information that I think you will find invaluable. Most humans, on one level or another, find explosions and/or the pain of others to be _very_ funny."

"Really?"

"Obviously, you have never watched an episode of 'Looney Toons'. We shall have to remedy that."

The fae tossed the boxing-glove-arrow to the side and pulled a new type of arrow into being. Glued to the tip was a large black ball with a hissing fuse. She fired at the thickest cluster of spiders.

_**BOOOOM!!!**_

"Bwahahaha! Yeah, just like that! Do it again, again!"

The fae, encouraged by his/her/its success, pulled another bomb-arrow into being. The Sacramentals considered this for a moment before unanimously turning and scuttling off into the underbrush. The weapons whisked out of existence and the fae nearly bounced as she moved up to the head of the group. As she went, the filly turned her head towards her rider.

"Did you... really find it that hilarious?"

Harry smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck.

"Well... I'll admit that on a certain level it was funny as hell. But I'll also admit that I may have... _exaggerated_ my outward reaction somewhat, to encourage the use of more dangerous weapons."

She nodded, completely understanding his reasoning. The more dangerous the weapons his guards were using, the less likely that he, personally, would come to harm. Such reasoning had been used by slaveowners throughout all time, despite the occasional backfiring where a slave would get ahold of a weapon that was _too_ powerful and end up accidentally killing everything nearby with it. Or being possessed by a demon bound to the weapon. Stuff like that.

"There it is, right there! Minions, grab it and let's head back!"

xxx

Draco groaned as he lay in bed, his mother sniffling lightly into a hankerchief beside him. An elf popped in to wipe a cool, damp cloth over his brow, then left. He groaned again, softly.

At school, he had the Malfoy Image to maintain. So even at the beginning, when this strange affliction had begun, he had not mentioned it. Ignored the fact that light jolts of pain would make their presence known at odd intervals, and that sleep had become a dicey proposition, filled with nightmares and agony. And things had grown worse as time passed. All that the staff and his classmates had noticed was that he wasn't sleeping well, given the dark rims to his eyes, and written it off as bouts of insomnia at the sudden and abrupt proof of mortality applying to _everyone_ with his fathers death, and looked no further into the matter. Frankly, he was glad for that.

But here at home, he had no reason to conceal his pain. Narcissa's bawling increased as Draco went into convulsions for a few moments, then returned to panting slowly as he lay in bed.

"Oh, my baby... my poor little baby."

Draco swung a pained eye toward her as he caught his breath.

"Mother... have you yet discovered... what the potion Father had me take daily was?"

"Oh... I'm sorry, Draco. Those blasted goblins still wont let me into the private vaults. Only the Malfoy Head can be allowed entry, and as a woman, I cannot take the test. Oh, my poor baby."

Draco slowly sat up, wincing in obvious pain as he did so, the damp towel falling to the sheets.

"In that case... I must go to Gringotts myself... to claim the Headship."

"No! You mustn't! You're too young, the strain could kill you!"

"And yet the possibility exists that should this... affliction continue for too much longer... that I could die anyway. I _must_ become Head now, to learn what this affliction is... and how to create the potion that suppresses it."

Narcissa continued sniffling, but nodded slowly and snapped her fingers, summoning the elves to have them dress her son appropriately and ply him with potions to increase his strength, endurance, and vitality... dangerous if overused, but neccessary in this instance as the slightest hint of color flowed back into Draco's cheeks and he stopped shivering. Within minutes they were at Gringotts and arranging the test. Much gold changed hands, in effort to make the test _immediate_. After all, those potions would wear off eventually.

"Now the test is quite simple, young Malfoy. Just put the ring on, and if its magic accepts you, then you are the Head."

"And if it does not accept me?"

The goblin sighed. Most wizards didn't bother to ask this before putting on the ring. So it looked like he might not get to watch a senseless and agonizing death after all.

"If it doesn't accept you, you die. Simple as that."

Draco nodded and unhesitatingly slid the ring onto the proper digit, where it flashed brightly.

xxx

"DAMMIT BOY! For the love of gold, are ye _trying_ te kill us all?"

"I'm sorry... it was just... so big! You know?"

The Dwarf sighed as a huge club began thwacking into the cliff wall, its wielder either trying to enlarge the opening enough for it to follow them in, or to bury them under the rocks. Everyone backed further into the cave as the creature screamed in rage and an avalanche of dirt and stone covered the entrance. Thankfully, the Tower Heart was emitting a faint glow, so they could still see.

"So _of course_ ye just _had_ te walk up to the sleeping giant and POKE IT IN THE EYE?"

"Ehehe... I couldn't resist."

The heavy stomps of a disgruntled giant moving away were heard. The group sighed in relief.

"Well... Seeing that there's not much else to do in a cave-in... let's get to know each other better. No! Not like _that_... it's just that I've only just realized that I've been very rude, calling you only by your species name."

This sort of mood swing... it couldn't be natural. Either it was faked, or the boy was bipolar. Nobody could quite decide which possibility they preffered.

"Gloin. Son of Oin." the dwarf offered, tersely.

"The slavemaster called me Pfil. You know... because I'm a filly."

"True Names hold power for my kind. Even more so than the collar about my neck. Call me what you will." This from the Fae.

The Veela shrugged. "I vas never given a name. The extent of the conversations I had was more along the lines of 'Veela. Now.' and the like. Half of the time, my owners could get their point across vith a point and a grunt. Though, if you must call me something... I'm rather fond of the name 'Alexis'. Vould that be suitable?"

"That's fine, Alexis. Now..."

"Shh!" Gloin whispered, holding up a hand. "Listen!"

They did. There was nothing but the sound of a soft breeze through the back of the cavern.

"What are we supposed to be listening for?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Are ye daft boy? Can ye not hear it? The breeze! If there be a breeze in a cave, that means there's another way out, for the wind to get in! All we have te do is find it."

The minions gibbered unintelligibly among themselves, then lifted the Heart and headed for the back of the cave.

xxx

Draco slumped back into the heirloom chair, pale, tired, and horrified. The goblin had obviously not expected him to survive the rings testing... as if he would allow himself to die in such a petty manner at this point... but had obediently taken him to the private vaults. It had taken him several hours to find what he was looking for, reluctantly passing by all of the many other tomes of knowledge for the moment.

And what he had found horrified him.

For a start, the Malfoys were apparently nowhere near so pure of blood as they pretended to be. No wonder that the tapestry depicting their family tree had been kept here, rather than in a place of honor in the family mansion. Only a bare quarter of the names on the tapestry were wizards. Of the rest, perhaps an eighth were muggleborns or just plain muggles. The remaining, largest group of names, were not even human. There were Veela and Sireni and Nymphs and they made up the largest part, but there was also the occasional Elf or Fae or minor demon that popped up now and again. But what concerned him were the Veela and Sireni and Nymphs. All of which were famous for their beauty and... ahem... 'loose ways'. And the fact that they would only bear girl-childs.

A sinking suspicion had entered his mind upon realizing this, and taking a closer look at the tapestry. The first few had given birth to females, as expected, but the next few... the words were blurry. So were the next few. Then suddenly, a couple hundred years ago, all of the nonhuman Malfoys began to produce one hundred percent male, human offspring. Lucius himself had apparently had a Veela for a mother, and never questioned his maleness, or the potion that he had to drink daily. Just like Draco hadn't.

He'd spent the next hour desperately poring over journals and records, hoping to prove the conclusion he'd jumped to wrong. No such luck.

At one point, Abraxas Leopold Malfoy was the last surviving Malfoy. There had been a war or something, claiming the lives of all the others, and leaving him with a long term curse. The inability to sire children upon a human woman. That left him with few options, for without a _male_ heir, the Malfoy family would dissappear.

His solution had been to impregnate an enslaved water-nymph, then use a dark ritual to force the gender of the unborn child. And it seemed to work... for a few years, in any case. As the child reached the toddling age, it had grown ill, and started to shift back to female, but died midway through the process. The nymph had been distraught at the loss, and had apparently grown sullen and unwilling to accommodate Abraxas in the bedchambers. He had sold her off after a few weeks of this cold shoulder, and purchased a Siren.

The gender forcing ritual had worked much better on her, for whatever reason, but at around the age of seven, it had once more worn off. The child, not capable of understanding what had happened to it, had gone quite mad, and eventually become psychotic and dangerous. The Siren had put it down herself, and then sunk into a deep depression and drunk poison. Abraxas had disposed of the bodies permamently.

Being a very secluded person by nature, nobody knew of these two experiments, but a few of his social contacts had begun to pester him to bear himself an heir. After all, he was nearing the age of forty, which, at the time, was a very respectable age. And so he wed, knowing that he would be unable to bear a child on the woman, and so continuing his experiments in secret. Five more years passed, and Abraxas would spend his days in seclusion, within his secret laboratories, and his nights with his wife. Whispers of infertility had begun to circulate, but he had made a breakthrough... a potion that would stimulate the effects of the gender-forcing ritual, empowering it, and strengthening it to the point that it would never fail.

He captured a French Veela for this final, desperate attempt. The impregnation and the gender forcing ritual had went off without a hitch, but Abraxas knew that it had to be his wife that brought the child to term, for it to legally be the Malfoy heir. And so he had placed a powerful sleeping potion in his wife's dinner and brought her down to the laboratories after she had fallen asleep. Using a dark ritual, described in gruesome and nauseating detail, he had transferred the growing child from the Veela's womb to his wife's, and then completely obliterated the Veela's corpse. Then, while she slept, he subtly meddled with her memories. Her last period dissappeared, and a sense of vague confusion over this was implanted into the memories of the next couple of days. Then excitement afterwards, as she realized what a missed menses could mean. The drugged dinner was replaced entirely with a normal meal, a long bout of lovemaking with her husband, and the resolution to tell him in the morning.

He acted his part of the surprised, yet excited and pleased husband perfectly, and the rumors of infertility were quelled as the wife's belly began to swell. And few people ever questioned the potion that he had the child drink once it was born, and those that did were easily mollified with the explanation that Malfoy children were more prone than others to childhood illnesses and he did not wish for his only heir to die in infancy.

And here it was. The formula and description of the familiar potion. The potion that would have fixed this problem for him, had he come to find it only a few short weeks earlier... for an addendum by a later Malfoy made it _quite_ clear that the potion could be left for some time before it reached a danger point, but once the stage of 'illness' where the child would have dizzy spells and go into convulsions had been reached, eventual regression to the form that nature had intended was inavoidable.

Draco had never drunk, or smoked, although Lucius did on occasion, and had once suggested that he learn the 'genteel' habits. But right now, he very much wished that he could.

Maybe it would shut up the part of him that was giggling about how Dracona would be such a pretty name.

xxx

There was a subspecies of dragon that was small, wingless, and nearly blind, having adapted fully to its chosen habitat, which was caves. The cave-wyrm. They were rather uncommon, as the muggle St. George had hunted many of them down, knowing that a wingless dragon would be unable to take to the skies an escape. Though where he had managed to get enchanted armor and weapons to protect him from the flames and kill the beasts had yet to be determined.

Of course, while not common, they weren't exactly rare either. And so most wizards avoided caves, knowing that any one could hold one of these vicious, territorial beasts.

Pity that Harry hadn't been taught that yet, or he would have suggested digging through the cave-in instead.

"Protect the Minions!" He yelled. "Keep it away from them!"

Interestingly enough, a cave-wyrm would awaken at the slightest noise, and would be much more irritable than normal. The Minions had picked up the pace when the thing attacked from behind, and now they were playing a dangerous game. The Minions could only go so fast while they carried the heavy orb. The gladiators had to hold a position that wasn't too close to the Minions, so that the Wyrm couldn't get past them to attack them, but not too far, because the Wyrm would have more of an advantage the darker it got. It was used to hunting and killing in the utter darkness of the cave. They were not.

"Duck, boy, Duck!" A claw swiped where Harry's head had been only moments before Gloin had called out his warning.

It was like a deadly game of cat and mouse, except that the mouse had its own claws, and wasn't afraid to use them. Once they reached the exit, they would be relatively safe, because the daylight would hurt the Wyrm's weak eyes more than they possibly could. The best they could do for the moment was to fend it off and retreat.

"Left! There, Light! The exit!"

The Wyrm screeched in rage as they made it to the mouth of the cave, launching an ineffective blast of cold, blue fire from its mouth at their fleeing forms.

Harry glanced around, then slowly held up his hands to show that he was unarmed, in an effort to stave off the next confrontation. They had exited the cave, right in the middle of a herd of Feral Centaurs.

xxx

Dumbledore was Not Happy. He had sent small group from his Order of the Phoenix to pick up Harry and return him to the care of his relatives. If he really wanted to be away from Hogwarts for the holidays, then let him be miserable, with people that hated him and everything he represented.

Of course, the problems had started when the spell to take them to the location of the beacon tied to Potter's wand had landed them in, of all places, Brazil. Complicating that was that Mundungus Fletcher had absolutely no sense of tact and was the only one in the group who spoke anything even resembling Spanish. Somehow, the fool had given the Brazilian Aurors the idea that they were kidnappers, searching for a particular wealthy and famous tourist to abduct.

Things had gone downhill from there and now Mundungus Fletcher, Arthur Weasley, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, and Remus Lupin were now labeled as International Terrorists. Here in Britain, that wasn't a problem, as he could use his not-inconsiderable political clout to have the whole incident brushed under the carpet, so to speak, but Dumbledore was suddenly realizing that other countries did not think so highly of him. They appreciated his effort in stopping Grindelwald, but apparently felt it counteracted when he didn't immediately step up to the plate to deal with Tom Riddle. Sure he could have dealt with him immediately after he got out of school... but what would have been the fun in that? Besides, people would have appreciated the action more if he'd waited until Lord Voldemort was a true and omni-present danger before eliminating him. Then had come that blasted prophecy which had overturned all of his plans.

He shook his head. He was wandering... must be old age catching up to him. In any case, none of the group he'd sent after Potter were now welcome in any of the surprisingly numerous magical communities outside of Britain.

Then he'd sent a second group, only for them to land in freezing water off the coast of Alaska, watching as a huge muggle boat passed by without noticing them. They had been rescued by a school of Merfolk bound to the service of the Alaskan Auror force and, once dried up and plied with hot chocolate and warm blankets, that simpleminded nincompoop Dedalus Diggle had spilled the beans about why they were there, who had sent them, and the fact that Dumbledore had been the one to send a group of people to Brazil earlier in the day. Further questioning under Veritaserum revealed that none of them knew anything else, and they had been reluctantly released into the British Auror's custody, where Dumbledore had ordered their release.

That was another five people that would no longer be welcome outside of Britain, and the two incidents had cast a huge smear on Dumbledore's political relations with other wizarding bodies. And now the blasted reading from the spell was signalling that Potter was in Hawaii. HAWAII! How the devil had Potter known to go to Hawaii?

Hawaii was the one place where the wizarding community banned all forms of magical transport. Because if the wizards of Britain seemed stuck in an eternal Dark Age, then Hawaii was still in the era where the wizards would paint their faces, strip down to grass skirts, and kill each other for 'Long Pork'. No wizard with half a brain went to Hawaii, for fear of being eaten by the natives. There were hugely powerful wards, supposedly powered by one of their primitive gods, that meant nobody could apparate, or take a portkey or floo to Hawaii either, so most wizards wouldn't want to take the bother anyway. Even the blasted Knight Bus wouldn't go to Hawaii!

And that was what made Hawaii such a perfect place for Potter to hide.

But perhaps he was wrong... yes, perhaps he was just overreacting. Potter had grown up in the Muggle world, after all. He barely knew anything about British wizarding culture yet. And the spell was _also_ reading that his two lackeys were with him. Yes. That was a much more reasonable explanation. Blue seas, blue skies, white sands, those two friends of his in skimpy bikinis... a Wizards puberty did hit a fair bit earlier than a Muggles, after all. And what better way for a hormone-controlled adolescent to spend his christmas than watching two girls his age slather suntan lotion all over each other at the beach. Alll... Overr... Dumbledore snapped out of his daydream with a flush, wiping away the trail of drool at the corner of his mouth.

Ah, youth. It was just blind luck that he had picked a set of beaches that Albus could not retrieve him from. After all, Hawaii was a Muggle vacation hot-spot.

The wizards there preferred it that way. More and easier sources of the long pork, after all. He'd just have to hope that the idiot boy didn't run into any natives.

xxx

They were surrounded, and many, many weapons were leveled at them. The one that appeared to be the leader of the herd was talking, and occasionally shaking a spear.

"What are they saying? What are they saying, Pfil?"

"I... I don't... give me a minute. I'm really rusty with this language... okay... they... they don't want to fight? Something about... today is a... a holy day for them, or something like that. They want... give me a moment... they're offering to let us leave but..."

She suddenly broke out in a heavy, facial blush.

"But they want one of us to... to stay behind. For... for... for _sexual relief_!"

Harry considered this for several long moments, immediately taking note that the entire herd seemed to be stallions. How had he missed that before. He made his decision.

"Pfil... You know I like you and all... And you were expensive, so I feel really bad about doing this to you... but for the sake of the rest of us..."

"Y-you misunderstand. They don't want me. They want you."

There was a long ominous pause, and the head centaur licked his lips hungrily as he reared up on his hind legs, thrusting his 'stallion-hood' directly at Harry's face. Harry took a moment to come to terms with this, as he dimly noted that the entire herd was very... excited.

Then his face went parchment-white and his magic lashed out instinctually, shoving all the stallions directly away from him, off their feet, and into trees and bushes as he leapt to Pfil's back, directly from the ground and without a running start, and started screaming in her ear.

"GET ME THE HELL AWAY FROM HERE! EVERYONE ELSE FOR THEMSELVES! GET MOVING PFIL, THEY'LL BE BACK ON THEIR FEET ANY MOMENT NOW!"

The feral herd screamed in rage... and frustration... as Harry and Pfil made their getaway, swiftly followed by the rest of the group, none of whom wanted to see if they would rate a close second place prize for the Centaurs.

Pfil was blushing heavily. Not that she really minded someone riding on her back... she'd been raised in the Pits and was used to it... but the _way_ Harry was riding her was definitely... not uncomfortable, but... He was clutching tightly to her in some combination of fear and shock, his legs wrapped and locked together over what would be her hips if she were human, and his arms had shot immediately beneath hers and wrapped over her chest, which was extremely sensitive to touch. Combined with the way that his body was pressed up against her humanoid half... it prompted sensations that were completely new to her, having been raised as a beast of burden.

"Treeline." Harry sighed in relief, relaxing his grip and sliding back to a normal riding position. Pfil was of two minds as to whether or not that was a good thing. "Thank god. If I never go into another forest again..."

Once they were finally out of that damnable wood, it was only a matter of minutes to get back to the manor, frazzled and weary, but successful. Gnarl directed the Minions deeper into the manor, and after a few minutes, magical stones set in the roof began to glow. Of course, this only revealed the _full extent_ of the disrepair of the manor.

"Well done, Sire! And all of your slaves have survived, Remarkable! Now, next on our agenda, we need to get someone to tidy this place up a little. I suggest..."

"Gnarl?" Harry bit off violently. "Shut up. I've had a really bad day."

Gnarl shrugged and stepped back, bowing, as Harry pulled open a door, prepared to search the manor for someplace to sleep. An obviously dead and partially rotten man was standing behind it, and slowly lifted his arm to clasp down on Harry's shoulder, staring at him with glassy eyes.

"Muuuuuuuuuuuurgh... Braaaaiins..."

A trail of drool fell from the zombies mouth as it leaned forward.

xxx

A.N.

Okay, apologies for the cliffie, but I just couldn't resist. And I'm sure most of you can make an educated guess about who that zombie is. And many of you were partially correct. 'Draco' will indeed end up female. But he's also not exactly human either. I'm trying to decide what to make her, part-veela, or part water- or earth-nymph. Suggestions will be taken into consideration.

Anyway, a brief rundown and recap of the character personalities, just in case anyone's confused. Hell, I'm writing this and it sometimes confuses me.

Gloin- The Dwarf. A powerful melee fighter, and yet surprisingly educated. And yet not smart enough to go easy on the booze when playing poker.

The Count- and the aristocratic undead will get no other name for the moment. He's somewhat non-discriminatory in his lusts, as you've noticed. It's entirely possible that he'll end up in compromising positions with the least likely people/beings/animals later on.

The Fae- who has refused to reveal his/her/it's real name thus far. Was a jester for the winter court of the fae. Has phenomanal power, but can only use it in 'amusing' situations. Ironically, explosions can, at the right time, be considered amusing.

Alexis- the Veela. Pretty much your average Veela actually, with one quirk. She apparently loses complete control of herself in the heights of passion, reverting to her avian form, complete with sharp claws and fire dancing wildly about her. Naturally, her previous owners were less than pleased about that little detail. Seems to be interested, romantically, with Gloin, who may possibly be the only available being tough enough to survive such a situation relatively unharmed. He's a dwarf, after all.

Hookergrope- Griphooks cousin. Prefers female 'companionship'. Aside from that, just seems to be your typical goblin, complete with a dagger to stab you in the back with.

Pfil- the centaur maiden. Picture your stereotypical shy, naive, virginal young maiden. Now make her half-horse, give her a bow and arrows, and you've got Pfil. Being raised as a beast of burden that just happened to be able to talk and use weapons, she's not really experienced in relating to others, and has no idea about how to go about seeking 'companionship', or that, when looking for a mate, she should stick to her own species. Definitely going to cause all sorts of fun problems.

Stay tuned for the next chapter, which will be out whenever the hell I finish it, and in which there may or may not be another Quest, something will definitely happen about that zombie, and Ranma may or may not get ahold of a new gun! Right now, I'm going to say that the one she's using is a Browning Baby. Be sure to send in a review!:))


	9. Chapter 9

Honor among Thieves

Chapter nine

xxx

"Muuuuuuuuuuuurgh... Braaaaiins..."

A trail of drool fell from the zombie's mouth as it leaned forward.

Harry hadn't learned much in Ranma and Herb's 'Self Defense Classes', but this sort of situation he could deal with on instinct by now. His head shot forward, tilted down slightly, crushing what was left of the zombie's nose. In the same motion, he withdrew his knife and slashed, removing the zombies hand from his shoulder the hard way. He leapt back as the zombie staggered.

"Fucking _hell_! You little fucking _twat!_ You cut my hand off!"

Harry blinked. That... hadn't been expected. Neither was the cast iron skillet that impacted against the back of the male zombies skull, wielded by a female one in a _much_ better state of preservation, with fiery red hair... and very familiar green eyes. Harry's brain shut down and rebooted.

"There will be NO swearing in front of our son, dear."

There was an obvious person to blame for this.

"DAMMIT RANMA!"

"What?"

The gladiators jumped, but Harry was too familiar with Ranma's Mad Ninja Skillz to show any outward reaction when she appeared silently behind his back. No matter how creepy it was.

"Who were they?"

Ranma ignored the question in favor of sighing.

"Looks like plan A failed."

"They're my parents aren't they. You turned my parent's corpses into zombies for the sake of pranking me!?"

Zombie-James smiled and raised his remaining hand, one bony finger extended.

"Son... I HEARTILY APPROVE of your choice in friends!"

Skillet, meet skull. Zombie-James dropped to a moaning heap on the floor.

"Well, if plan A didn't work..." Harry frowned as Ranma snapped her fingers. Then frowned and snapped them again. And again. Then...

"Oof!"

Herb had appeared and struck him heavily in the stomach. He crumpled over her fist like tissue paper. As usual, it was a one-hit knockout.

"About time! Now, like I was saying, if plan A didn't work, then it's time to move on to plan B."

With a flourish, she pulled a familiar black, lacy dress out of her sleeve. Identical malicious grins sprouted on their faces, and Zombie-James sat up to burst out laughing. Even Zombie-Lily was twitching a smile away as the two set to work on her son's unconscious form.

xxx

Griphook took a deep drag from his new, gold-embossed pipe. Becoming the manager of the Potter accounts, as well as the new, and rapidly swelling, Musk account had probably been the best decision he'd ever made. The job came with a _much_ higher salary, and all sorts of fringe benefits, as evidenced by the new, much larger office and desk to impress visitors and clients, as well as lord it over the goblins who now answered to him. One of whom he was recieving right now.

"You are sure about this, Torgnak? I would be most... displeased to find out that you brought me false news."

"Like I said, account manager Griphook... the Malfoy child and his mother visited Gringotts early this morning, requesting the test for Headship. The boy was obviously feeling poorly, but the test went off without a hitch, and he didn't even hesitate, even knowing the consequences of failing the test. Then he had me take him to the Malfoy private vault. He remained inside for several hours before exiting. He had nothing with him that he did not enter with, and he hadn't left anything inside, but he was obviously not in the best shape by this point. He was extremely pale, sweating heavily, and staggering, yet when I offered him some temporary assistance, he was cold and clammy to the touch. His eyes were slightly glazed and one pupil had dilated slightly while the other had contracted, and he seemed to have difficulty breathing. I am no doctor, but I would say that the Malfoy boy was either seriously ill, or _very_ distressed by something he had found in the vault."

Griphook took another drag from the pipe before exhaling a puff of green smoke. Through dint of many long hours of practice, the cloud looked almost exactly identical to the average human skull. The symbol was not lost on the younger Torgnak.

"I've told you everything I remember! There was nothing else out of the ordinary."

"I believe you, Torgnak. After all, you're not the kind of goblin that would lie to an Account Manager. Knowing full well the sort of penalties in such an action."

Griphook took another drag, and a second floating skull joined the first, before both dissolved into mist. Griphook blinked, then chuckled.

"And I do believe I've just thought of a reason that the young Malfoy head may have been so discomfited. Tell me... what did you note of his interactions with his mother, Narcissa?"

"His mother? I don't know. Just the average human parent-child interactions, I believe. Perhaps Narcissa was a tad more clingy than most mothers?"

Griphook smiled and leaned back in his new upholstered chair, made of dragonhide. He'd added two and two together and ended up with five.

"So you didn't notice any... interest, in Narcissa, on the young Malfoy's behalf? But neither did you notice any disinterest?"

"Well... he did seem interested in keeping a good arms length between them when they left... you don't mean?"

"Pureblood wizard heirarchy is... well if you need an example, turn to the Muggle greek myths of the gods of Olympus. They were actually a rather powerful family of wizards, and had very few taboos when it came to... _family relations_."

Torgnak seemed interested... he was young yet, and had yet to have a chance to study their customers in much depth. He could speak a couple human languages, and change pounds for galleons and vice-versa, but had yet to get a firm grasp on what made the odd species tick.

"Now, muggleborn wizards mostly have a powerful view on such things. And for almost all muggles, it's _very_ taboo. But most Pureblooded families not only see nothing against it, but actually encourage it. That seems to be the real reason that few Purebloods and muggleborns intermarry... not so much the biases between the two cultures, but the fact that the muggleborns will have to accept certain Pureblooded customs as unchangable. The point of the matter is, with her husband dead, Narcissa is no longer technically a Malfoy. Oh, she has a couple of years yet before her last name _legally_ reverts to Black and she is shut out of the Malfoy accounts, but unofficially, she might as well be. And given that the current Head of the Black family is in Azkaban, and cannot come here to change his previous decision to cut her off from all Black support forever, she would be no better off, monetary-wise and socially, than a Knockturne street prostitute."

Torgnak nodded, uncertain of when his superior's point would be made.

"Now, there _is_ one way that she could remain Narcissa Malfoy. And it is very simple... she only has to marry another Malfoy. But given the recent decline in their fertility... and Lucius' pruning of the family tree... there is only one Malfoy remaining. Her son Draco. Legally, there is no problem with this. And Narcissa doesn't seem to be objecting to the idea, but young Draco does, for whatever reason. His discomfort with her attempts to seduce him in private, and the possible discovery of the reason for Narcissa's recent radical shift in behavior in the vault would easily explain things."

Torgnak nodded and left, impressed with his superior's explanation. It was very logical and well thought out, taking human psychology into account. It was also completely _wrong_, but then everyone had an off day.

There was a loud slurp from beneath Griphook's desk, and his eyes crossed momentarily. Ho, yes. Large desks were good for more than just intimidation. They also tended to have a large, empty space beneath them, hidden from view. Large enough to hide things in. Or beings. A clink of chain and a light whimper from Griphook suggested that he had invested his larger paycheck _very_ wisely into the Pits.

Passing on this new information to his clients could wait a few minutes. Or perhaps more than a few.

xxx

Harry groaned as he slowly clawed his way up and out into the waking world. His stomach hurt really bad... he probably should have known that suckerpunch was coming. He glanced down at himself. The clothes he was wearing were far too comfortable for his tastes. He would much prefer it if they were scratchy, or itched, or were two sizes too tight. Anything to make his mental discomfort with them match the physical. Shifting slightly, he dimly noted that they'd gone the extra mile this time and clad him in silk panties rather than leave him the dignity of his boxers. And his butt hurt.

He paused and frowned as he considered that last point. Why would...?

There was an arm wrapped around his stomach. Chills went down his spine.

"Good morning, young master! Did you rest vell? I certainly did."

His brain began making connections at a speed surpassing that of light. He was wearing _THE OUTFIT_. His butt hurt. The Count was apparently waking up at exactly the same time that he was.

Waaaiit for it...

"**NOOOOOOOOOOO!**"

Ranma snickered to herself and Herb gave up a large toothy grin as she stroked Mint's hair. The young werewolf looked like he wasn't quite sure how to feel about the attention, especially as she scratched behind his ears.

"Looks like little Harry-chan just woke up."

"**I'll KILL YOU!!**"

"Shouldn't we be slightly worried?" Herb wondered.

"Nah. The _Count_ now..."

The door slammed open and the Count rushed out, ashen-faced, and ducked immediately to the side to avoid a hailstorm of sharpened pencils, all of whom thunked deeply into the wall opposite the door. The stone wall. He zipped past the open door to the room where Ranma and Herb were sipping Earl Grey, followed swiftly by an enraged Harry. Seconds later, he zipped back in the opposite direction, dodging Harry's crossbow bolts. Then left to right again as he dodged arrows launched from the bow Harry had 'borrowed' from Pfil when he ran out of bolts.

"... He might have to worry a little bit."

This time, the pale, terrified vampire lunged into their room, slammed the door shut, then leapt over their table and locked himself in the closet. A moment later, Harry kicked the door in, snarling with rage, and bringing Gloin's axe to bear. A soft click of a gun's safety being clicked off froze him in place as he looked down.

"Was it really neccesary to destroy my door?"

"Could you point that somewhere else? Like my head? _Please?_"

"If you insist." Ranma's hand barely twitched from its previous position.

"_You know what I meant!_"

Ranma let off a bark of laughter and raised the Browning until it was centered dead between Harry's eyes. He relaxed slightly.

"I'm sorry about your door. _BUT I MUST KILL HIM, NOW!_"

"Now now, calm down Harry-chan. Whatever it is that you think the Count did, he didn't. I threatened him with castration to ensure that he wouldn't."

"But... it hurts?"

"Now think about this rationally for a moment, Harry-chan. That pain you're feeling... does it feel like the kind of pain that a long, thick, _something_ would leave behind after plunging repeatedly in and out of what was designed as an exit only? Or could it be accounted for by... a couple strikes of a paddle. This paddle, in fact."

Ranma put the gun away and withdrew a large paddle, covered in black leather and silvery studs. Harry visibly sagged with relief. Then came a cough from the doorway.

"Am I... interrupting something? I'll come back later."

And Griphook left through the room's fireplace. And only then did they realize what the situation looked like... Harry in a dress and makeup, to the point where he actually looked like a flatchested girl, apparrently shuffling backwards from Ranma, who seemed to be threatening him with a paddling while Herb watched in amusement, sipping tea and scratching her pet werewolf behind the ears. It was a situation that could very easily be misconstrued.

Herb and Ranma broke out into gales of laughter as Harry huffed with a ladylike flounce, then flushed cherry red as he realized what he'd just done.

"Fine. If you're all done laughing at my expense, I'll just take advantage of the fact that you've brought the parents I've never met back to life. Where are they, actually?"

Harry should have known that something was wrong with the situation when Ranma's eyes started twinkling, but he paid no attention and marched directly up to the door she indicated and slammed it open, stepping through. Then he marched immediately back out, wide-eyed and greenish under the makeup, slammed the door back shut, and sank to his knees as one hand shot to his mouth.

"You couldn't have TOLD me they were having _freaky zombie parent sex!?_"

"What would the fun in that be?"

Harry sizzled in rage.

"Anyway, Gnarl suggested something. Go change your clothes... the makeup will come off with hot water."

xxx

"Alright, now as you all have noticed, this place is in a state of complete disrepair. Now we have three options. First, we can clean it up ourselves."

Ranma paused to let the booing die down.

"Yes, yes... it's just an option. Anyway, we could also hire maids. The drawback to this is that we would then have to pay them salaries for as long as they remain in our service. The final option, and the one I think we'll be going with, is just to buy some more slaves to deal with it. Any suggestions?"

The Count immediately made his opinion known.

"Zey must be young and pleasing to ze eye! Alzo, zey should vear zese uniforms!"

The things the count pulled out from nowhere... one appeared to be a french maid uniform. Except that there were no panties, and there were holes carefully cut out for breasts to fit through. The other was a glittery thong.

"I'll take that under advisement, Count." A polite 'Hell, no.' "Anyone else?"

Alexis spoke up slowly.

"Vell... it's not that I think they'll be useful... but I've alvay's liked fairies."

"Which kind are you suggesting?" The Fae interjected. "Earthbound fairies, or the Faerealm faeries?"

"I... don't know. Vat is the difference?"

"If you're thinking about the earthbound type, then yeah, the stupid buggers are pretty useless. But the Faerealm ones are smart, if mischevous, and damn cunning. They make really good spies, and can get into small areas. You just have to mind your step, or you can end up with faery guts all over your shoes."

"Right." Ranma cut them off. "Faerealm faeries, thank you, anyone else have a suggestion?"

Hookergrope sided with the Count that they should be attractive, but preferred that they be female. Pfil requested that they get someone who had lived on a farm, because the stables really needed to be dealt with. Alexis brought up the fact that it might be nice to have another Veela or two around, directly causing the Count and Hookergrope to suggest Nymphs, Sirens, Saltwater Mermaids, Naga, Succubi, and the list probably would have continued indefinitely had Ranma not tossed a chair at them. Then the Fae had suggested that they find something small and really ugly and put a jester's cap on it. A sort of 'the shoe's on the other foot now!' thing. Gnarl had shot that idea down by pointing out that there was a jester's cap and rod in storage that one of the Minions could use. Gloin had just grunted at first, but eventually relented and suggested picking up something that knew how to brew a decent tank of ale. Then Pfil had suggested a gardener, to deal with the overgrown orchard, and maybe add a plot of carrots and radishes. Then the Count cheekily suggested a maidservant to 'help 'Mistress Harry' in and out of her dress'.

At that point, things pretty much went to hell in a handbasket as Harry leapt across the room and did his best to strangle the vampire to death. Undeath. Redeath. Whatever. In the end, all he managed was to crush the Count's windpipe which, given that he didn't really need to breath, wasn't as much of a crippling injury as it should have been. All it took was a few minutes of fiddling with his throat for him to uncrush it, although it did leave his voice slightly raspy.

"Alright, so to recap... we're looking for two or three Faeries, a Wood-Nymph for the orchard and the garden, a Veela 'maidservant'... cool down, Harry-_chan_... something to work in the stables, something that can make beer for Gloin, something to serve as a butler, and something that knows how to cook. I know you know how Harry, but the point is that... you're rich. So you don't have to."

Harry found himself completely incapable of forming an argument against her.

"Alright!" Herb chirped. "Shopping time!"

"And Griphook seemed to want a word."

xxx

"And that's all."

Harry was the only one who seemed slightly disturbed by the news.

"Wait... so Malfoy's mum wants to...?"

"Swallow his banana? Stir her cauldron with his wand? Taste his baby-batter?"

"Chain him to the bed, cover him with chocolate sauce, and..."

"Let's keep this to innuendo only, Ranma-chan."

"Okay... uh... ride his great white knuckler?"

"That refers to masturbation, not sex."

"Okay..."

"Enough, enough!"

Harry fell to his knees and covered his ears.

"I can't hear you, ladidadida!"

"Oh get over it Harry. You're acting like there's something fundamentally wrong with the situation Griphook just described."

Silence fell as the entire room considered Herb's statement, and she blinked.

"Oh. Right. Humans."

"And... you're.. not?" Harry questioned.

"Never mind that, lets get on to the shopping trip!"

And they waited for Griphook to get up to take them to the Pits. And waited. Aaand waited.

"You've got a hooker under the desk, servicing you, right now, don't you." Ranma bluntly stated.

"Yes... and I would appreciate it if you waited outside for a moment."

Harry needed no further invitation, nearly flying outside the office as he realized what was happening _in that very room_. Were all beings in the Wizarding world obsessed with sex? He was followed at a more sedate pace by the girls, who knew full well that everyone was.

After a few minutes, Griphook joined them, and brought them down to the Pits. Upon entering, he bid them farewell and gave them a portkey that would take them back to his office when they were done shopping. The man-gnome-thing slavemaster from their last visit smiled brightly at them, although they would have preferred that he didn't, and waved them over.

"Well now, it seems that you're back for more. Dare I hope that you're looking for some of my wares in particular?"

"Hmm... perhaps. And I see that the troll is still going strong with those two."

"Yes indeed! Y'see, trolls has got a special gift. They recover from exhaustion very fast, an' don't really need to sleep. So ever since they been put in there, that troll's been busy with one or the other, with only a few seconds of rest in between before it switches off."

"Excellent..." Ranma said, with a practiced smirk. Jessie was barely strong enough to raise one hand and extend her middle finger before it flopped back to the ground.

"But in any case, we're here for a very specific type of purchase." And Ranma reeled off the list. "Do you happen to have anything that fits the bill?"

"Hrm... not so sure about that. Any of you lugs know how to cook?"

One of the slaves slowly raised a hand.

"I can scramble eggs, and make pancakes. Does that count?"

"No. Sorry lass. But I _can_ write you up a map to some people that might have what you're looking for. Just a minute then..."

He quickly tore off a sheet of parchment from a roll and began scribbling on it, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

"And... there. Now if I were you, I'd start with old Tom over there. Ye said you were after faeries, and he should still have a tank of em if nobody's taken em off his hands yet."

Herb smiled and flipped him a couple of galleons that he caught eagerly. Harry was already making his way through the thin crowd.

"You are Tom? I need faeries."

Tom blinked, but immediately stepped up to the bargaining plate.

"And faeries I have. Twenty faeries of the summer court for the low, low price of one hundred galleons."

"That's nice, but I only need a few. How much for three?"

"Three? Well you see, I'd planned to sell these as a full set of twenty. Just to take three... that'll drastically increase their individual price. They'll be thirty galleons, lad."

"Thirty? You said 'drastically increase', not double. I'll give you seventeen for three of my choice."

"Seventeen? Are you mad, lad? These are all fine specimens, cream of the crop! I might, however, see my way towards lowering the price a bit to, say, twenty seven galleons?"

"Twenty seven is still a ridiculous offer. I will pay twenty."

"Twenty, lad? I'm trying to earn an honest living here. I'm afraid I can go no lower than twenty five."

"Twenty two, and not one galleon more. You can take the offer, or I can see if someone else would be willing to sell me a few faeries."

"D'ye really think that anybody else carries em, lad? But just this once, I'll drop it to twenty three galleons."

"... Done. I'll take the one with emerald wings, the one with blue and silver, and the one with pink wings that's being raped by the other two."

"What, again? Ere, you. Stop that!"

xxx

The Veela was easy enough to find... there were dozens of them in the pleasure-slave section of the pits. The trick was finding one that didn't immediately turn on the charm in an attempt to turn Harry into a drooling idiot. A more difficult task than one might think.

On the other hand, by the time they did find one, Harry had gotten more than enough practice in throwing off the effects to become completely oblivious to the 'Veela Aura'. Mainly because either Ranma or Herb would turn around and punch him in the face every time he started drooling. And so, pain, or rather the avoidance of such, was once again proven to be the best motivator.

The cook hadn't been difficult at all... just pick up a random house-elf, and they were good to go. The trick for that was finding someone who would sell them just one. Most of the elves were something of a 'pre-packaged' deal. You either got an entire clan of over thirty elves, or you got nothing.

Once they'd gotten the cook, they moved on to the beer-maker. In the end, they'd gone with a very big man wrapped in furs that was apparently named 'Hrothgar the Wrathful', who came from some little society of Vikings that had never stopped the raiding and pillaging thing, but now had the advantage of memory charms to help them along. Apparently, there hadn't been a truly accidental fire in almost any of the coastal villages of Europe for hundreds of years... The slavemaster wasn't sure about beer, but did assure them that Hrothgar could brew an excellent mead.

The choice for butler had eventually fallen to a Drow elf. An exceptionally rare breed, the slavemaster had... had... hmm. Actually, they couldn't recall anything the slavemaster had said about the Drow. Or which one they'd bought her from. Or why they'd chosen her over dozens of more suitable choices. Odd, that.

The stablekeeper wasn't a difficult choice either. A tall, straw haired man with an extremely prominent adam's apple, a broken nose, and an overbite with buck teeth. He seemed slightly dazed, and would glance around every few minutes, as though suddenly wondering where he was before his eyes would unfocus and he would return to whistling tunelessly. And off key. Only five minutes since they'd bought him, and they were all already regretting the decision.

Then came the truly difficult one, the wood-nymph. Or for a shorter term, Dryad. The problem was that Dryads were not born, but appeared fully grown from certain magically infused saplings. They lived for as long as their tree did, and died when it died. The problem was, once a tree got to a certain size, it would be nearly impossible to move. So not only were Dryads extremely rare, but few people wanted to buy them. But they lucked out, as one of the slaveowners had taken a risky proposition and stolen a Dryad's sapling at one point and put both it and the Dryad into a magical stasis when she came to reclaim it. Of course, it had taken a powerful set of spells to do so, and he couldn't let the Dryad go cheaply.

He actually had politely suggested that they consider a different, more common breed of nymph for their purposes. For example, if they wanted a gardener, than an Oriad, an earth-nymph, would work well enough. Perhaps not as well as the dryad would, but plants and the earth were closely related. An Oriad would do nicely, an he could sell one of them for a much lower price. No? It must be the Dryad, then?

In the end, he'd given in and named a price. It had been more than all the other slaves they'd bought so far _put together_. They'd hesitated, and he'd again pressed them to consider choosing an Oriad instead. But sheer, mule-like stubbornness prevailed, and at the last minute the slavemaster had questioned them about the land where they would plant the sapling. At a vague description of the lands, he'd nodded and decided that, if they _had_ to spend so much money on the Dryad, he'd throw in an Oriad and a Naiad as well for only a quarter of the price he'd normally charge. Harry's bargaining skills stepped up to the fore at the sudden and unexpected price reduction, and he'd agreed before he'd thought twice about it. Now Hrothgar was carrying a potted sapling, and the Oriad and Naiad were each holding up one end of the Dryad, who would not wake until the sapling had been planted properly.

None of them could remember which way was out, and so they eventually had to resort to the portkey to Griphooks office.

Perhaps they should have chosen to simply ask for directions, as when they arrived, Griphook was... ahem... _busy_ with some sort of creature that seemed to be equal parts squid, rabbit, tentacle sex demon, and Minion. Thankfully, his eyes were closed and he didn't seem to hear the swift exit of the now wide-eyed and mentally-scarred group.

xxx

Things went mostly well for a few days. The Dryad's sapling had been planted by hand, and once she'd woken up she got to work almost immediately on the orchard. A little bit of magical assistance accelerated the saplings growth and it would definitely be the size of a small tree by the time christmas break had ended. The Naiad had begun to purify the lake, with some help when it proved neccessary to expel a nest of grindylows. The Oriad was mainly in charge of the garden and keeping the grounds in a decent state, although she would accept help from the Dryad.

The rest had mainly just set to getting the manor close to some stage of presentable. By this point, while the manor interior was still dark, the moldy smells were gone and it was at least clean. Gnarl had also shown them the Hive in the basement, where the Minions were created. At this point, he'd made mention that there were three more hives, for more specialized Minions to be birthed from, as the Brown minions were more like all purpose warriors. He didn't actually go out and say that Harry should be hunting those hives down, but he did make mention of the more specialized abilities.

Red Minions were very attuned to the elemental plane of Fire, and were completely immune to all sorts of flame, as well as able to throw fireballs. Granted, they weren't the most effective close range-fighters, and would die swiftly against a foe that would only take a few Brown's to defeat. But apparently, if what Gnarl said was right, then a large enough group of them was a completely different story. A story filled with brimstone, fire and screams of horror and agony.

Green Minions were poisonous. Their claws dripped poison, as did their teeth, their breath was toxic, and so, they were by nature immune to almost all forms of poison. They could also turn invisible if they held still, but apparently their foul stench would give away the fact that something was wrong to anyone with a working nose. So while they would be useful as assassins, should the need arise, Harry was already making preparations to have their Hive set up downwind of the manor. Now that he thought about it, the Red Hive would probably be best placed in a building that couldn't burn down. The manor was, at the least, partially wood.

Then were the Blue Minions. The slightly addlebrained healers. They were also amphibious, so Harry would put their Hive at the bottom of the lake when, or if, he found it.

One important discovery, though, had been that while life-force from a sacrifice was a neccessary component in the creation of Minions, it did not neccessarily have to be _human_ life-force. Sacrificing, say, a chicken would work just as well. And have the added bonus of leaving you with a perfectly edible dead chicken. Whereas if you sacrificed a human, you would have to deal with the _evidence of the murder scene_ left behind. But nobody cared if you bought and killed a chicken.

Within fourteen hours, there was a new Musk Butchery and Slaughterhouse, funded by the Potter finaces. Within another day, they had enough lifeforce collected for hundreds of basic Minions. _Excellent_.

Moving along, Hrothgar and the Drow had settled in well enough. Hrothgar already had several barrels that he was using to start up a 'special' brew of honey-mead in and a dozen more for a more average ale. The Drow... pretty much just stood around and watched. She seemed somewhat antisocial.

Then there were the problems. The faeries and the Fae... had not gotten along. At all. By now they'd gotten used enough to each other that they merely actively avoided each other rather than had to hold themselves back from attempting to kill the other on sight. Once things had settled down, the one with pink wings had explained the war between summer and winter in more detail to the three masters of the house. She'd also, sheepishly, and more privately explained that what he'd seen in the tank had just been some role-playing. The three faery had been having fun, and had had no idea that the tank could be seen through from the outside, because it was opaque from their point of view.

Then she had asked him to slice an orange for her, because she liked the taste, but she couldn't get through the thick skin on her own, and then she had gone into the _puppy dog eye_ mode, an attack which Harry had been unable to resist, despite its wielder being only four and a half inches tall. He had obediently sliced her a large orange and watched in awe as she ate _the whole thing_. And it was at least twice as big as she was. And once she was full, she had made a nest in his hair and gone to sleep.

He looked, and felt, ridiculous. And he didn't realize until moments before the teasing began that he had immediately chosen the pink faery over the other two, more 'manly' colors. Herb was wondering out loud whether they would need to buy him a new wardrobe, and Ranma offered, apparently politely, to look up some charms to grow his hair out longer and 'make stuffing your bra unneccessary'. If her eyes hadn't been twinkling like mad, he would have thought she was serious. Actually, it didn't matter if she was serious or not, she'd definitely look up those charms, if only to take things one step further the next time he had to be 'punished'.

His zombie-parents were apparently uncertain about how to deal with things. On the one hand, they got to see their only son again. On the other, they were still dead. And it seemed that whoever had placed the preservation charms on their corpses had gone hundreds of extra miles for Lily, leaving her frozen in stasis at almost exactly the moment of her death, but had apparently botched the work on James. On purpose. He was still mainly one large, partially rotten piece, but every so often an arm or leg would fall off, or he would stretch in the wrong way and end up crawling all over the floor searching for his own head. Oh, eventually he'd be able to have Lily stitch it back on, but it was apparently really irritating for him. Added to the fact that Harry had barged in on them... you know. Things were just really awkward.

The _real_ problem, though, was the man they'd chosen as the stablekeeper.

xxx

"Billy-Joe-Bob. Do you know why we've asked you to join us here?"

He fidgeted, glancing in turn to Harry, Ranma, Herb, the wall, and back.

"Naw."

Ranma arched an eyebrow and leaned forward, while Harry and Herb remained silent.

"Really, Bill? Are you _sure_ that there's no reason that we might have called you here?"

He fidgeted again, but didn't answer. Ranma heaved a theatric sigh.

"To be frank, Bill, we've been keeping an eye on you since we first purchased you. Watching to see how you fit in, as a magic-less human among decidedly magical beings. Frankly... you've dissappointed us."

Ranma frowned chillingly before continuing.

"The moment you arrived, you tried to assert yourself as... top dog, or some other such nonsense, completely disregarding the fact that as a slave, you have no rights and qualify only as property, and we could easily have had you beaten to death for giving yourself such airs. Instead, we stood back in the hopes that you would learn the error of your ways on your own."

"It seems that we had hoped too much." Harry continued seamlessly. "Upon your spectacular failure to prove yourself superior, in any way, to Hrothgar, you seemed to display a momentary modicum of intelligence in a tactical retreat. Sadly, you returned almost immediately to your blatant stupidity when you demanded, and I quote, "Get thur hell outta mah way, yer runty little basterd." Gloin was most offended at your choice of words."

"As you swiftly discovered." Herb interjected. "Fortunately, we were able to put you back together again, but you spent your time wisely in the stables, and then not so wisely by sulking and getting in the way of others' more productive efforts once you had finished. Then you found a bottle of vodka, got smashed, and attempted to assault Pfil in the stables. What do you have to say for yourself about that?"

"Weel, Ah doan see why ya'll got so bent outta shape... Nunna mah daddy's horses eva put up such a fuss..."

Ranma frowned again.

"Bill. Regardless of what you seem to believe, we are not going to just look the other way on the matter. What you do with horses, on your own time, is your business. However, you seem to have failed to note that Pfil is not a horse. You are simply fortunate that she was happy to leave things off with a beating, because we would have been perfectly willing to let her kill you for the affront."

"Now thas nowt fair! Whatabout that Count feller, eh? He's allus off with dem nympho gurls, or that butler! Ah'm a man, and ah gots needs of mah own ter fill!"

"Nobody is questioning that, Bill." Harry said, waving a hand in a gesture of appeasement. "But the fact of the matter is that the Count has never attempted to press himself upon someone who is obviously unwilling. You, however, have failed to learn from your mistakes."

Herb waved Harry back before speaking up.

"Frankly, Bill, I'll admit it. You're a decent stablemaster. But we can do without you. You have, at one point or another, offended, antagonized, or attempted to assault every single being in this manor, and you've barely been here a week. Now we're going to offer you a choice. If you're willing to curb your excesses, we can overlook your latest offenses and allow you to stay here."

"Whut offenses...?" He muttered sullenly.

"Did you think we wouldn't know? Naughty, naughty billy."

"The second choice." Ranma continued. "Is that we kill you, and reanimate your body, but wipe all traces of personality from you in the process. You've met James and Lily? It'll be nothing like that. You'll just be a shambling, moaning corpse, taking care of the stables for the rest of eternity."

He was obviously uncomfortable with the choice.

"Third." Harry finished. "Is this. We give you one last order... a simple order. Then you leave, and you won't be allowed to return. You will still be a slave, and you'll never get that collar off as long as you live, but we will not knowingly contact you for the rest of your life. You will, in effect if not in reality, be a free man."

"... An' whut do I have ter do?"

They stood up, and lead him out of the manor, across the grounds, and to a stop.

"Do you see the forest?" Harry asked. Bill just looked at him like he was asking if the grass was green, or the sky was blue.

"Yuss."

"All you have to do is walk through the forest. From here, in a straight line to the other end. Once your out, you can do whatever you please. Call the police. Tell them your story, and get locked away in a rubber room. Fake amnesia, and get sent back to your daddies ranch that you've made so many mentions of. Whatever you want."

Billy-Joe-Bob stood up straight and walked straight into the woods, not looking back once. Once he was out of visual range, they sighed.

"Stupid bastard. Oh well."

"Nobody actually told him anything about that forest, did they?"

"Who cares. I've wanted to kill that little prick for a while now. But who will we get to take care of the stables?"

"Hrothgar. God only knows why, but he keeps asking me for more work."

"Maybe he's bored?"

The conversation degenerated from there.

Meanwhile, in the wood.

"Burr..." Billy muttered, rubbing his arms. "Iss preddy coald out here. Shudda asked dem tur whip me up summa dat mumbo jumbo ter keep warm."

A shadow lifted from the bushes, followed swiftly by another, and another. They had not been able to cross the wards to claim the one they had chosen for the festival, and had been waiting patiently for a chance to strike.

"Issa just a durn shame aboot dat horsey girl. Dunno why they was so upset. Ah's allus liked hoarses betta tharn peoples. Hurn?"

But this replacement had wandered foolishly into the wood. The festival was important. Until they had relieved themselves in the festival, they could not return to their broodmares and attempt to sire a new generation. Granted... this one was not nearly so attractive to the eye as the one they had first chosen, but once they had chosen a human as the centerpiece of the festival, tradition held that a human had to be the centerpiece of the festival.

They slowly, menacingly stepped out of the cover of the undergrowth, into the large clearing that the human with hair like straw had entered. Every single one was just as 'excited' as they had been on the day that the festival _should_ have commenced. And they were very, very frustrated with the matter.

The head centaur's hand came down heavily on the panicking humans head, then slung his unconscious form over his shoulder as he emitted something between a shout of triumph and a whinny.

The festival of fertility could finally commence!

xxx

A.N.

Bahahahaha!

Alright... I'm just going to see how far I can push things before it crosses the bounds of good taste. And honestly, who out there can read the words '_freaky zombie parent sex_' without cracking up? Poor Harry. And he was still in the dress too... Haha...

I make no apologies for, and have no regrets towards, the pureblood thing. And I'll probably be using it in the forthcoming chapters. Just so you know.

Man, and here this started out as such a serious story. Although the funny chapters are definitely coming out faster. Hrm.


	10. Chapter 10

Honor among Thieves

Chapter ten

xxx

_'Galaera...'_

_'... Galaera...'_

_'... Galaera!'_

_"G-go away..."_

_'... Galaera... listen...'_

_'Galaera... remember...'_

_'... Avenge... us... Galaera!'_

_"No! Go away! I don't want to remember!"_

_'GALAERA!'_

_"Sistilth? Are you all right?"_

She awoke.

xxx

_"Sistilth? Are you all right?"_

_"Hn... wha?"_

_"You were thrashing and twisting violently in your sleep... you bit the pillow. See?"_

Harry pointed the mark out, even as Sistilth calmed her nerves.

_"Are you all right?"_

_"I'm... fine. It was just a bad dream."_

_"A dream? Snakes have dreams?"_

She hissed in wry amusement.

_"Everything that sleeps, dreams, boy. Even snakes."_

_"Wow... I didn't realize that. But from what I saw, you were having a very bad dream indeed. Care to share?"_

_"Some things... are best kept private."_

Harry shrugged.

_"Suit yourself. Klinky has breakfast ready though. Would you prefer a chunk of beef, or a nice, juicy rat?"_

_"Beef today? Hm... yummy beef..."_

Harry laughed as Sistilth slithered up his arm to coil around his shoulders. He never noticed, and she ignored, the soft whisper echoing through the room.

_'Galaera...'_

xxx

"Young master has mail! And christmas gifts!"

Harry blinked slowly.

"Christmas... Gifts?"

"You vere expecting radishes, perhaps, young master?"

Harry couldn't help but stare at the pile of boxes.

"Go ahead, Harry. We already opened ours while you were sleeping."

"Of course, neither of us recieved the sheer volume of presents that you did. It looks like everyone at school sent you something."

"Open ours first."

Harry was still stunned as a box was crammed into his arms, and he slowly peeled the paper off. Then opened it.

Then his face went nuclear red.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?"

"You don't like it?"

"It's a... a..."

It was a frilly, pink sundress and straw hat. Harry was _not_ pleased. Still, once the howls of laughter had died down, it had proven to be an excellent icebreaker, and he was much more relaxed about opening the presents.

Most of them were candy, in one form or another. Chocolate frogs, blood pops... the Count snatched those out of his hand... Cockroach Clusters, that he happily passed on to Gnarl, and more. Then there were the more expensive presents. Draco had sent a set of emerald dress robes, along with an invitation to the annual christmas ball held at Malfoy Manor. Some Lupin person had sent 'The Illegal Guide to becoming an Illegal Animagus'. Susan Bones had sent a book that most of the ministry probably wished didn't exist... 'Loopholes in the Law, and how to exploit them for fun and profit.' Then there was...

"My old invisibility cloak! I was wondering if Dumbledore would get around to sending it to you, or if he'd just had it put back in the vaults. This is great! I remember that I used to have so much fun with this... sneaking to the kitchens at night... setting up pranks with my friends... sneaking into the girls dorm to watch Lily sleep... actually, that last was a whole lot more boring than I expected."

_**Clong!**_

"You did what, where now?"

"AAH! L-lily-flower... That is..."

_**Clong, Clong, Clong!**_

Harry winced as Zombie-James fell to the floor, clutching at his head and moaning.

"Y'know... one of these days you're going to say something _really_ stupid, and she's gonna splatter your skull like an overripe melon. Was she this violent when you married her?"

"... No. It was the hormone shift after the pregnancy. Takes a lot of witches that way. But on the other hand, she also got a lot more active in the bedroom, so..."

The skillet flew around the corner to impact with the back of Zombie-James' head, sending him back to the ground.

"Okay... that's right up near the top of my list of 'thing's I'd rather not have known.' Moving along... what's this about a ball? Should we go?"

"Do you want to?" Ranma asked.

"No... not really."

"Then we're going."

"Wait... then again... it might be fun?"

"Good. I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

James had to snicker at how easily his son had been manipulated. His mouth was flopping open and closed like a fish out of water.

"Now, son, you must understand that... you can never win an argument with a woman. So don't even try. Just nod and... smile... Lily is... standing right behind me, isn't she?"

_**CLONG-ONG-ONG!**_

xxx

The ball was... interesting. Harry had chosen to wear the emerald dress robes that Draco had sent him, completely ignoring the suggestions that Ranma and Herb had made, about wearing the sundress they'd given him instead. He had no doubt that he'd be forced into it at one point or another, but best that he put it off for as long as possible.

Ranma was wearing some sort of chinese dress made out of silk. It was black, with a white and gray floral print, and it only came down to her knees, completely shocking the old biddies wearing pointy hats and robes that didn't show anything but their hands and faces. She'd also picked up a necklace with an emerald cabochon set as a centerpiece somewhere.

Herb had taken a completely different route. She was wearing armor. Hardened, rigid dragonscale armor, bracers, and shinguards over something made of pink fabric. Setting it off was a silver tiara with a ruby.

Hell, the invitation _had_ said formal dress. So they had dressed formally. So it wasn't 'English Wizard' formal, who cared?

Apparently, just about everyone. Or everyone above school age, anyway. Their Slytherin contemporaries were mostly impressed with the choice of outfit, with a few notably disgusted exceptions. Parkinson, for instance.

"Interesting choice of dress, Potter."

And then there was Snape, hovering about like a huge, malevolent bat.

"Apparently, Professor, Herb's outfit was traditional formal wear for her family. The fact that armor is part and parcel of it says a great deal, I believe."

"Ah... and Saotome?"

"I believe hers is traditional as well sir. Although she was more close-mouthed about it."

Silence fell as both took a sip of their chosen refreshments.

"You know, Potter, the Headmaster is quite convinced that you've chosen to spend the winter on the beaches of Hawaii."

"Is _that_ where it ended up?"

"And as a Professor, if he asks me, I will be bound to let him know that I saw you here."

"And should he not ask?"

"... Well, should Albus not think to ask, then I see no reason to let your location slip. By the by, young Draco has recently taken control and Headship of the Malfoy family, and has called a meeting of the Wizengamot tomorrow. Why, I do not know, but I should warn you that if Baron Potter should choose to attend, it would be wise to be wary. I would suggest leaving with a portkey. It is only a minor meeting, so Albus will not _personally_ be in attendance, but he will certainly be waiting for you to leave. I do not know why he is so interested in where or how you spend your break, but I feel it neccessary as Head of Slytherin to warn you on this matter."

Harry arched an eyebrow.

"I had not realized that my status was common knowledge..?"

"It is not. But if one knows where to look, they can find many things that are not common knowledge."

"Ah... and it would be quite rude not to support dear Draco in front of the Wizengamot."

"I see we understand each other, Potter."

Snape turned and stalked away, robes billowing ominously. One day, Harry would work up the nerve to ask how he managed that little trick. He'd tried, and never got it to work. Maybe it was because his robes were specially tailored? Or maybe there was a charm on them? He took another sip and considered the matter that Snape had brought up, slipping out of 'politics' mode. He _had_ known that their little subterfuge with the vial couldn't last forever.

Good enough. And sooner or later he would have _had_ to start getting his feet wet with the politicians anyway. The whole Baron thing. He would have preferred to wait until he could collect a larger amount of blackmail material, but for now, he'd have to subtly make do with what little he'd been able to acquire through overly-chatty young relatives. As it turned out, nobody noticed a snake if it hid properly, and the undead spiders could be charmed to record conversations they overheard. Granted, most were_ supremely_ uninteresting, but sometimes you'd strike gold. For example, Quirrel seemed to be possesed by something. He completely lost the stammer when he was alone, and would begin talking in two seperate voices. One of which would lapse into snake language now and again.

That would probably be his opponent in this little race to the rock. But that could wait until they were back at Hogwarts. In any case, for example, Cedric Diggory had mentioned to one of his friends, in confidence of course, a very embarrasing story involving his father, alcohol, and a male prostitute. The friend had reciprocated with a story of _his_ father, alcohol, and his favorite guard dog. You'd think at least that some of these people would make sure that they were in a secure area before before opening their big mouths.

Ah, but then he wouldn't be anywhere near so prepared for the Wizengamot. He smirked lightly and drained the rest of his glass of wine, then tossed it to the side, knowing full well that one of the House-elves would catch it before it hit the ground. He was proven correct as it disappeared in mid-flight.

Whispers started again, as apparently the older witches and wizards had completely written off the possibility of inhuman aid, and were now attributing the cup's dissappearance to his own power. Not one to correct their assumptions, as long as they were in his favor, he strode to a nearby table and began sitting. A chair appeared out of nowhere, courtesy of the House-elves that simply would not let a guest embarass himself like that without cause, and a set of dinnerware appeared before him on the table. The whispers increased in frequency, and he couldn't help but smirk.

xxx

"Well, it looks like Harry's having fun."

Ranma nodded.

"By the time we're done here, he's gonna have them all convinced that he's the reincarnation of Merlin or something."

"Which could be a good thing."

"It could also be a bad one. You remember Nerima?"

"Oh yeah..."

"Maybe I'm wrong, but out of my experience, being well known as the 'top dog' usually ends up being a bad thing. Because, you see, everyone else who wants to be 'top dog' will make you their number one target. And, sooner or later, they'll get you. Granted, I still plan on getting them back..."

"And putting them through the eternal fires of torment and agony. Then bringing their corpses back to life so you can do it all over again. I know. You've only said it once a week since we got here."

Ranma shrugged, but didn't bother to look ashamed or abashed.

"I've got lots of time to plan it out. It'll be years before I've collected enough information on interdimensional magics to even consider putting my plans into action."

"By the way... This is Draco's ball, right? So where is he?"

"He's... huh..."

Now that they thought about it, not one person in the throng looked anything like Draco. Well, except Narcissa, anyway, and she was coordinating the throng. There were Notts, Parkinsons, Zabini's, Greengrasses, Bulstrodes, Crabbes, Goyles and more, but Draco was nowhere to be seen. And Harry had apparently had one too many cups of wine, because he was having altogether too much fun.

The interesting thing about the Levitation charm that they taught in first year was that, once cast on an object, it only required a minor flexing of will to move it about. So, theoretically, one could have dozens of items floating about onesself at any given time. That was how the great hall had all those candles floating in it at Hogwarts. Harry, however, was going a little overboard.

Bottles of wine and crystal glasses were floating all around him, along with dinnerware, cutlery, and napkins. A turkey and a ham were attacking each other with steak knives, slicing bits off each other and flipping them onto plates floating nearby. The whispers were breaking out into full-blown murmurs now. They sighed and stepped forward, each clapping a hand on one of his shoulders with just enough force to let him know that they were there, but not enough that, in his drunken state, he would go for his knife.

"I think it's time we left."

"It's long past your bedtime."

Harry shrugged and rose. Against all logic, now that he was drunk, he was as graceful and seemed as dangerous as a mountain lion. Odd, when he was usually somewhat clumsy and looked just about as dangerous as any other eleven year old with a stick. That is to say, not at all. Both of them immediately made plans to experiment as to whether or not the boy had any potential with Suiken. It wouldn't be unheard of, and would work wonders in pushing forward his level with the martial arts.

The only problem would be surviving his undead mother once she realized that they'd purposely turned her only son into a lush.

xxx

"Sho... Whadda we do now? Ooh, I know! Let'sh do shome more of that kung fu shtuff you like so much!"

"One, it's a bit late for that."

"And two, you only want to spar because, as drunk as you are, you can spend the whole time groping us and pretend it's all accidental."

"... Sho?"

"You haven't even considered the fact that there are other females here, more amenable to male attention?"

Harry blinked slowly. Then his eyes widened and he snapped his fingers. Then he bolted. Again, surprisingly, he was much faster and more agile than when he was sober. They lost him in seconds and Herb turned to Ranma in disgust.

"Great. You just had to point it out. You do realize that if he loses his virginity because you couldn't keep ahold of him while drunk, he's gonna be pissed?"

"So? I didn't see you hanging too tightly to him either."

"He was drunk. He could have turned and vomited on me. Do you have any idea how hard dragonscale is to clean?"

Meanwhile...

"Hiii Pfil!"

Pfil's head slowly rose and one eye cracked blearily open. Harry was standing in the stable door, ignoring the grumbling, soft whinnies of the horses (Because what is a stable without horses?), as he beamed at her, smiling widely and staggering slightly. Pfil took a moment to wonder what he might be doing here at this time of night... and blushed.

"Er... M-master...?"

"Pfil." he said, seriously. "I want..."

He paused, and she found herself unconsciously leaning forward.

"A HUG! Will you give me a hug? Pleashe?"

She finally noticed the slight slur to his voice and the distinctive scent of alcohol lingering about him. Oh. Right... that ball thing. She sighed and held out her arms.

Harry crashed forward like a tidal wave, knocking the wind out of her momentarily as his arms locked around her midriff like a vise. Her face began slowly turning blue.

"C-cant... breathe... gasp..."

Harry didn't appear to hear her, but his arms loosened a fraction of an inch. Pfil took a deep breath, then realized that that left the side of her breast pressed up to his cheek and expelled the air in a wheeze as her face went red again. She compromised by taking shallow breaths until she decided what to say.

Long before she thought of anything, Harry stepped back and raised a finger.

"Now I want..." He paused. "I forgets. What did I want? I wansh... a pony ride!"

"There are horses... right... there..."

Crap. He was doing _that_. His lower lip was out and trembling, his eyes were wide and watery. She sighed.

"Fine. Just a minute..."

"Yay! Pony ride!"

It was actually pretty nice outside, Pfil found. The full moon was hanging overhead, reminding them that Mint was chained up in a cage in the basement for the night. There was a thin, cool mist rising. The stars were shining like thousands of little gemstones. Harry was loudly singing dirty limericks about sodomy and bestiality... Okay, so maybe that last one wasn't so nice.

"BUT A HEDGSHOG C'N NEEVA BE BUGG- Eh? Wassat over dere?"

Pfil blinked and turned.

"Uh... That, next to the lake? I don't know. Looks kind of like a stag, but..."

They both leaned forward. Then their eyes widened.

"Oh... oh. Wow."

"I am suddenly horrifyingly sober. And horrified."

"Who knew your mom was into that sort of thing? And that Mrs. Clause suit looks painted on."

"Back to the house. I'm going to find something alcoholic and see about... wait a minute, if I remember right..."

Harry started rummaging around in his robes. Pfil just continued staring. It was like a train wreck... you just couldn't look away. Harry grunted as he tugged a bottle of wine out of his pocket.

"I knew they wouldn't notice if just one bottle went missing."

There was a pop and fizzing sound as Harry yanked the cork. In the distance, the stag's back arched, and it turned back into James as he collapsed to the side. One leg appeared to have separated from his body.

"Lets see... enough so that I won't remember any of the last five minutes... what the hell."

Chug, chug, chug, chug. Burp.

"Wowser... I can feelsh my brainsh shellsh dyingsh."

"... Do you have any of that left?"

"Shure doesh!"

xxx

Ugh... pain... blinding, stabbing, agonizing pain. Like a trillion white hot drill bits augering their way through his skull and into his brain. His tongue felt rough and dry like sandpaper and his hair was wet. His clothes were... hmm. He patted himself down to confirm, not bothering yet to open his eyes.

Yes... he was wearing that pink sundress. He choked off a scream, knowing that it would only worsen his headache, as his hands traveled north and found something on his chest that had absolutely no right to be there. He opened his eyes, revealing, if one was of an artistic bent, two pits of darkness lined with trails of blood. He was laying at the base of a tree in the orchard, Pfil only a few feet beside him and wearing the straw hat that went with the dress. That gave him pause. He didn't remember anything past Ranma and Herb ushering him gently out of the ball last night. Well... there was one thing. Sort of. He couldn't actually remember, but he recalled running across a... scene of ultimate horror?

Much as he tried, he couldn't recall anything else about the scene except just how horrified he'd been about it. And... a half-rotten stag zombie?

He shook his head. Must have come across one of Ranma's 'experiments' then. Like the time she'd fused the corpses of a squid and tarantula, then engorged them. Then it had broken the binding spells, at the size of a large horse. The incident still haunted his nightmares.

Still, he also couldn't remember doing anything to warrant their special brand of punishment last night either. That left him pondering the disturbing possibility that he'd put this thing on willingly, and of his own volition. And while he was stone dead drunk as well, so with any luck it wouldn't count.

His hand shot up to catch a pear before it impacted with the side of his head.

"Breakfast for you, young master, as you could not be awakened to join at the table."

"... Thank you Tara. Ah... I don't suppose you have any idea about what I might have done... last night?"

The dryad giggled and sank into the tree behind her.

"... Well that doesn't bode well at all. Pfil. Pfil... Wake up Pfil."

"Mrgg... hn... oh. Oh. Oh dear mother of god, that hurts. It's like a thousand angry dwarves are trapped in my skull and trying to tunnel their way out."

"Hangover. Just a second..." He sliced the pear in half. "Here. Eat this, and then we can see about finding a potion or something to fix that. And... I don't suppose you remember anything about last night...?"

Pfil snorted and began giggling hysterically as a sweatrop swiftly grew on the back of his head.

"Okaaay..." He mumbled. "That _really_ doesn't bode well. At all."

"It's... snicker... probably best that you don't remember, master. I think you would be mortified."

"... Note to self. In future, moderation with the booze. Wait... I get the feeling that I've forgotten... The Wizengamot meeting! Crap!"

He darted for the house, Pfil following slowly behind. Maybe they could make a Portkey? Yeah... his parents had been buried with their wands. And just because they were dead, that didn't mean that they couldn't use magic. That would work.

xxx

The Wizengamot waiting room was very large, with plush, comfortable chairs and tasty snacks and beverages set on the tables. After all, the people sitting on the Wizengamot were mainly some of the most powerful, and old, wizards and witches of the age. They were simply used to being pandered to.

And this was only when they were waiting for a minor session of the wizengamot. When something major came up, requiring all of the more senior members to be present, it got really magnificent. The waiting room would expand even further, the walls would suddenly gleam with embossed runes of silver and gold, and carved jewels, there would be musicians in the corner playing violin music, and house elves scurrying about with plates of wine, eclairs and fancy side dishes, and boxes of expensive cigars.

But this was just a minor meeting, of the mid- to lower-level members of the Wizengamot, so they had to make do. But it looked like almost everyone was here, including the young, new head that had called them in the first place, so...

The door swung open, revealing one more addition to the throng. A short addition, with messy black hair, wide green eyes, and a lightning bolt scar, dressed rather conservatively. For a muggle, anyway. To the wizards, the black Armani suit was an outrageously liberal fashion statement.

He cocked his head slightly to the side and smiled.

"Am I... late?"

He was instantly swarmed by smiling, affable, middle aged wizards determined to plant this new player firmly in their political camp.

"Diggory's the name. Amos Diggory. And let me say that it is indeed a pleasure, young mister Potter, to welcome you to your first session of the Wizengamot."

Harry laughed, playing himself up to be just as friendly and affable as everyone else, even though he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Please, call me Baron. And I assure you, Amos, the pleasure is all mine. By the by, Froderic sends his regards."

The wizard shaking his hand froze, going pale and greenish.

"F... Fro... deric?"

Harry nodded once, his small smile never shifting, but something in his eyes gleamed. The Diggory clan head staggered back, horrified. Froderic. He _knew_. He _knew_ the Diggory head's most secret shame, that he had thought none else knew of. He had to make sure this was kept quiet. Just... just keep quiet and don't do anything to cross him. Maybe later see about how he had learned that little tidbit of information... no, can't do that. He just staggered back, still pale, and resolved not to interfere in the young Potter... in the _BARON_ Potter's business.

This scene repeated itself many times over, a witch or wizard would introduce themselves to Harry, Harry would smile and generally act the chivalrous young man, but would drop an innocent little comment that would cause the person introducing themselves to pale and stagger backwards. Within fifteen minutes, everyone was giving the young Baron a wide berth, and seemed incredibly nervous about simply being in the same room as him.

Draco couldn't help but be impressed. His classmate had instantly claimed power over almost everyone in the room without seeming to, and with no less than a few words. With a sudden, blinding flash of insight, he realized that _this_ was what it truly meant to be Slytherin. Vaguely, he had to wonder how half-wits like Crabbe, Goyle, and Bulstrode had gotten into the house at all.

The clock on the wall hit noon, and the door to the courtroom creaked slowly open. With a smirk and wink from Harry that reassured him far more than it had any right to, Draco strode into the courtroom and took his place at the podium, while the rest took their place in the semicircular stands. Dark aligned families on one side, Light on the other, just as it had always been. And Harry planting himself in one of the many empty chairs in between. Theodore Nott Sr., one of the few people that Harry hadn't had blackmail material on, clanked a gavel.

"This session of the Wizengamot, called by Draco Ignatius Malfoy, Head of clan Malfoy, will now come to order. Speak your piece, Malfoy."

Draco took a deep breath to calm his nerves before opening his mouth. He only had one shot at this.

xxx

It was quiet pandaemonium in the stands. The motion that the young Malfoy Head had brought up... it was ludicrous! Certainly the young, very young Head's reasoning was flawed. Allow females to inherit, to stand as heads of the family? It had never been done in Britain! It _would_ never be done in Britain, if these venerable wizards had anything to say about it!

Then Harry had stood and there had suddenly been a lot of nervous sweating amongst the 'venerable wizards'.

"I second this motion. Ever since I entered the wizarding world for the first time, I have been fascinated by the rich and historic culture, and have engrossed myself in many tomes of history. And I have noticed... that many families have gone extinct in the past century. Whether through the actions of the Dark Lord Grindelwald and his followers, or the more recent Dark Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, or a simple combination of ill luck and coincidence, the amount of pureblooded wizarding families has decreased to a mere quarter of what it used to be. A terrible tragedy, to be sure. And yet... If witches were able to claim Headship of their family, many previously extinct families could be reawakened, and families on the brink of death could be rescued. Take the Bones family, for instance. The only two remaining members being Head Auror Amelia Bones and her niece Susan. Unless one of them weds, and their husband accepts taking the Bones surname, their family will die out in another generation. This motion would easily counteract that."

Nott coughed and banged his gavel.

"The motion has been seconded. All those in favor?"

Harry's grin suddenly widened and turned malicious. Nervous sweating increased and, one by one, hands raised. After all, it was a case of tradition versus personal motivation, and they were sure the long dead, ancestral, _Male_ Heads of their respective families would understand. Nott sprouted an impressive glower as he counted hands.

"All those against the motion?"

Nott raised his own hand, and was joined by a few scattered others that Harry didn't have in his pocket. _Yet_. It was nowhere near enough to overturn the motion.

"Very well. The revision to the law, now allowing females to become the Heads of their respective families and sit at the Wizengamot has been voted upon and approved."

Most of the wizards shrugged. They had been opposed to the idea to begin with, but now that the motion had been passed, they didn't seem to realize what a huge change in society as a whole it would make. Idiots.

"We now open the board for new motions... Yes, Baron?"

"I would like to bring up the matter of the Colloseum..."

Oh, yes. The Daily Prophet was going to have a field day with this. Especially since most of the voters were still dazed, nervous, and malleable to his whims and the others were likely to have voted the way he wanted anyway.

xxx

He was right. The motion had passed unanimously, and the Daily Prophet had immediately snapped up on the news, shunting the less important new rights for women to a minor article in favor of printing such headlines as 'COLLOSEUM TO REOPEN? A UNANIMOUS 'AYE'!' 'MINISTRY GIVES ITS APPROVAL FOR DEATHMATCHES?' and 'WILL THE COLLOSEUM BE USED FOR MAGICAL DUELS?'.

Dumbledore was not pleased.

He'd checked several times and was assured that the locator beacons had never left Hawaii... and yet the Prophet had made note in their interviews about 'Baron Potter's Impassioned speeches', although notably there had been no interviews with this Baron Potter himself.

The problem with powerful wizards such as Dumbledore was simply that, as they were more powerful and 'wiser' than anyone else, they tended to believe that they were always right. Therefore, Dumbledore never considered that the tracking spells he'd placed on the wands of the 'Emerald trio' as some had begun to call them had been discovered, much less the possibility that they might have actually been removed.

Consider it a rather large blind spot.

So, since the beacons showed that Harry was in Hawaii, obviously Harry was in Hawaii. This 'Baron Potter' character was obviously an imposter, and no doubt a truly dark wizard indeed, if he was beginning legal proceedings to have that abomination of an arena of death reopened, convincing speeches about the nature of humanity and how nice it would be for evil wizards to have a place to legally practice their dark magics aside. The fact that they would be putting their own lives on the line to practice that magic was ignored by the venerable headmaster. And he wasn't even _honest_ about his allegiances, subtly proclaiming himself 'neutral' by where he'd chosen to sit. Nuetral, of all things.

It was impossible. The Potter family had been completely light aligned since their founding, and the last family that had claimed to be completely neutral had been killed off during the war with Voldemort. He appreciated neutrality even less that people outright refusing to serve his whims. You were either with him or against him... there was no middle ground.

So who was this 'Baron Potter' then? He'd already ascertained that it obviously could not be young Harry, so just who was it that had stolen his identity? With proper application of Polyjuice and a few other specialized potions, almost anyone could become so very identical to the boy that only the most comprehensive of testing rituals could reveal the real one from the fake.

This was a worrying matter. Albus considered for a moment the possibility of instructing young Harry on politics and bringing him to the wizengamot whenever it was called, before brushing off the idea. Too many variables... and his plans concerning the boy were still shattered with his unexpected placement in Slytherin house. They would be long in being replaced, it seemed. No, he had a better idea.

There were always some unscrupulous hit-wizards and bounty hunters around that would dance to the tune of gold. He would purchase himself the loyalties of a few, and then wait for this identity thief to show his face at the wizengamot again. Nobody would notice his 'disappearance'. All they would know would be that young Harry had stopped attending sessions of the Wizengamot. And with any luck, he never would attend.

After all, it wasn't in Dumbledore's plans.

xxx

Winter break was almost over. This was the last day of the trio's freedom from school. In the morning, they'd head to the station... for now, they had to decide what to bring back to school with them.

"The dresses stay here." Harry said flatly.

The school books were definite. As were the weapons. Guns and knives mainly, but Ranma had made some simple bombs too. She would have gone with blocks of C4, but the detonators wouldn't work in Hogwart's halls. Plastic spheres filled with gunpowder and a fuse would still work, as there was no electricity required. The blast might not be quite as large, but given that the reactions of your average wizard having something tossed at him would be to catch it and inspect it closely, it would be large enough.

Idiot wizards. If someone tossed _anything_ with a fuse at you, common sense would be to throw it away, preferably out a window, as fast as you could. Or at least to put out the fuse.

Herb still abstained from carrying weapons around as, from a certain view, she actually was a living weapon. Instead, she used the space to carry more books and arcane equipment, along with a large amount of candy.

It was _fun_ to watch kids jump through hoops for a chocolate frog. And every so often, they would find something useful. Combine that with the fact that rather than realizing they were just toying with them for their own amusement, the bribed kids had cemented positive images of them in their heads and were more than happy to 'run errands', it was well worth the cost of a little candy.

Zombie-James had flat out insisted that Harry carry a sack of 'pranking supplies' with him. He also suggested that they look into finding a special map that he'd made in his school days. Zombie-Lily applied a frying pan to his skull when he suggested they 'target Snivellus, for old times sake'. He spent the next hour looking for it, as it had gone out the open window.

The faeries had insisted on coming along, out of a combination of the facts that they were small enough to keep hidden within the school, intelligent enough that when they spied on people, they would _only_ let them know about things that they thought were important, and the fact that if they stayed behind, the Fae would be more than happy to ensure their 'dissappearance'.

A huge feast was prepared that night, and the undead parents made portkeys for them in the morning while Ranma shattered the glass of the vial containing the homing potion with the spells she'd woven into its creation. Within minutes, the remaining gloop would evaporate and disperse, completely destroying the enchantments bound in it. They were hoping that this would be construed as someone noticing the tracking charms they were carrying and removing them. Sure they would be reapplied at Hogwarts, but they could be removed again after they left.

A few of the gladiators and slaves got up early to see them off alongside the zombies. Others didn't bother, as they had better things to do. Or simply hadn't woken up yet. Although one was making very certain that nobody was nearby to spy upon her before she withdrew a crystal ball from a hidden pocket.

The drow butler set it on an iron stand and it began to glow before a face appeared within it.

"So, daughter... you've finally found time to contact your dear, beloved mother. Make your report."

xxx

A.N.

Alright, they're going back to school! And I've begun to weave some threads of plot back into this venture... ;;... It's painful...


	11. Chapter 11

Honor Among Thieves

Chapter eleven

xxx

"Quiet. I said quiet, you insufferable little brats!"

Snape glowered at the returning horde of Slytherins. He hated first years. They were always so annoyingly loud and irritating. 'Excitable' the other professors called them. Thankfully, his own serpents tended to grow into some degree of proper decorum by third year, while the other Heads of Houses had to deal with it until the children grew out of it in fifth or sixth year... if ever they did.

Of course there were always exceptions... those few who were thankfully quiet and either never caused trouble or were sufficiently subtle in their troublecausing that they were never caught, right out from their sorting.

He knew that the Gryffindors would roam the halls of Hogwarts after dark, looking for that quiet trio in the back. They were most displeased that the latest Potter had 'betrayed' them by being sorted into another house, and would torment him and his two friends if they ever caught them, out of some ridiculous desire to make him 'repent' and request a resorting. He couldn't prove that Dumbledore's machinations were behind this... but he had his suspicions.

Of course, he knew perfectly well that Dumbledore had been prodding the elder Slytherins as well. Most of them hadn't exactly been pleased at Potters sorting either. However, the more intelligent were not swayed enough to act against a member their own house under the orders of a _Gryffindor_, no matter how powerful and influental, or how much they despised the younger boy in question. The less intelligent ones, who had been swayed, were kept at bay by the simple expedient of the trio sleeping somewhere other than the assigned dormitory for their years. They could be living anywhere in the labyrinthine dungeon area, and only luck would allow the gorrillas to find them.

It was a much more intelligent decision than he'd expected from the Potter-spawn, so he'd no doubt that it was one of the girls' ideas.

Snape's blisteringly caustic 'welcome back' speech wound to a close and he stalked back to his chambers. And sighed. He hated to admit it, even mentally, but Potter was... was... not _quite_ as much of a complete and total dunderhead as he had expected him to be before the school year began and... he was not an absolute failure at brewing potions, which had been completely unexpected. No doubt Lily's mental genes were making up for the fact that the boy had had the bad taste to be born a near-mirror image of James.

And he wasn't simply apt in Potions either. James had only been slightly above average in his classes, except for Transfiguration, in which he'd been clearly above average. Lily, however, had focused in Charms, but did much better than James, scorewise, across the board. Top ten overall, easily, across her entire seven years of schooling.

Harry was currently in the top _five_ high scoring of Hogwarts first years, placing just fifth, behind his two friends, Malfoy, and that Gryffindor girl Granger. Having four out of the top five for first year be in Slytherin was excellent bragging material for in the staff lounge, though it would no doubt shift once the Ravenclaws started hitting the books in earnest. It always did.

Nevertheless, he found himself in turmoil. On the one hand, he typically made a point out of ensuring that Slytherins could handle Potions class with him, and assumed that the other heads did so as well. Also, if someone had even the slightest hint of talent in his house, he would to his best to polish at it, in the hopes of discovering a diamond in the rough... a possible new Potions Master in the making.

On the other hand, this was James foul spawn he was talking about. But it was also Lily's. But he saw James every time he looked at him, despite the longer hair, and had enough problems with the Occlumency lessons and normal Potions classes with him. He'd no intention of pressing the matter with extra potions lessons as well. But...

He paused, and his gaze swung to the cabinet where he stored his old schoolbooks. He weighed this new idea for a moment, then nodded. That would do... he would arrange for a couple of his old books to fall into Potters hands and see what happened from there. If the boy proved himself too much of a dunderhead to take advantage of the opportunity... well, he'd simply not deign to arrange for more to be found.

He withdrew a quill and began carefully penning a note with his off hand as the students went to bed. In the morning, one of the school owls would drop it off at Harry's plate in the great hall. It would be amusing to watch the reaction.

Of course, Snape didn't know that something else would be happening that morning as well, or he'd have put it off for a day or two.

xxx

Hermione was frustrated. She'd been excited when she'd been sorted into Gryffindor, yes, because she'd read all about it in Hogwarts, A History, and Gryffindor sounded like the best option, but she hadn't realized that the book itself had been written by... a Gryffindor. As such, it had been notably biased towards that house.

Frankly, she didn't think she would be able to take it much longer. If she'd been able to make just one friend within the house on her intellectual level, or at least someone willing to sit still and listen to her expound upon such and such or whatever, it might have been different but... not one person in her year in Gryffindor was interested in education, it seemed, and they'd begun actively avoiding her to escape her lectures.

Well, wasn't that _nice_. Now she was outcast in her own house. Dandy. She'd even tried to make friends in the older years, but it apparently just Wasn't Done... and neither was making friends outside the house. So... she'd made arrangements to change houses.

Most of the school was surprised when Dumbledore got the hat out and set it on a stool in front of the staff table. Upon the explanation that there was to be a Resorting, though, something that hadn't been done in decades, heads swung expectantly towards Harry. He cooly stared them down as the pause lengthened and Dumbledore coughed.

"To clarify... it is miss Granger that has requested a resorting. Miss Granger, if you would please...?"

She stood and walked to the front, ignoring the shocked stares coming from the table she'd just left. Why would anyone want to _leave_ Gryffindor? McGonagall, at the staff table, was just as thunderstruck. With miss Granger leaving, the average score in first year would be dropped to less than half what it had been. Brr...

_Back again, Miss Granger? Ah, but I did warn you that Gryffindor might not be the best place for you. Ah... I see you've been reading up more on the other houses. Good for you._

_Lets see... I've already looked over most of this. You would be a good Ravenclaw, yes. But... no. No, I think I know just where to put you, if you can keep from questioning my decisions this time._

_It'll be a little harder than you might prefer, and under different circumstances I wouldn't even consider... but let's not talk of that. I hope you do better in _SLYTHERIN!

The hall was silent as Hermione took a place at her new table as Snape let loose a smug little smirk. Five out of five, now, and the top scorer to boot. Dumbledore coughed again.

"And now, since the hat _is_ here and waiting, if anyone else would like to request a resorting? Anyone at all?"

It was not missed that he was staring directly at Harry. Nor was the way that Harry was ignoring him as he sipped at some sort of... tea? How did he have that, when everyone else was waiting for any food whatsoever.

HUFFLEPUFF!

While the staring match continued, Neville had trundled up to the hat. Eyes turned to him and he smiled sheepishly. Then the morning owls descended and chaos reigned for a few brief minutes.

Harry handed the package attached to his letter to Ranma, who tucked it somewhere... he wasn't sure quite where. Hmm... the handwriting wasn't anyone he recognized, and it was unsigned. Something about noting his 'Potential' and giving him a gift. How nice.

By the time the hall had settled down, Harry was back to sipping at his tea. A pot and two more teacups had appeared from somewhere about Ranma's person as well, and the other two had joined him while everyone was looking the other way.

Dumbledore finally got control of the chattering horde and they simmered down into silence.

"Ahem. Like I was saying, if anyone... anyone at all..." They weren't buying it. He was staring directly at Harry the whole time. "Wishes to be resorted, they need only ask me. If that is all? Very well... breakfast is served."

xxx

"Well... this is interesting."

It was a free period, and they'd directed Hermione towards a few of the less prejudiced of her new house before settling in to a spare room to take a look at the package of books.

Just normal school books for Hogwarts, but with writing in the margins.

"I have to admit, this 'Half-Blood Prince' person seems to know what he's doing."

"But it could be hogwash. Only one way to be sure."

Fifteen minutes later, they'd set up two cauldrons. One was making a simple potion using the instructions from the book, and one was following the instructions scribbled in the margins.

The results were good. The one following the Prince's instructions was of obviously better quality, if only by a little, but that was enough. Both potions were disposed of, and they spent the rest of the free period copying out the Prince's potion instructions from the book, as well as little spell incantations scrawled in the sides. Over the next few days, they would work out what the spells actually _did_, and how the differing instructions affected the brewing of potions.

Once they'd figured it out, and applied that new knowledge to all the potions they made, the quality dramatically increased. And in their research, they'd discovered things that they hadn't known before, like why it was a bad idea to mix the bloods of mammalians and reptilians in potions without some form of stabilizer.

They also started working on teaching Harry the trick of rolling with the blast to safely remove onesself from ground zero. As it turned out though, one of the incantations scrawled in the Princes textbook was a handy little trick for growing back ones eyebrows. All three of them swiftly became fluent in its use.

But eventually, their plans turned from their scholastics back to the race. Harry had to find a rock. A specific rock... he'd no idea what it was supposed to look like except that it would shine red with magic. He had to get to it before his opponent, who they were assuming was Quirrel, did. And they had no idea where the stone actually was.

Well... they didn't know _exactly_ where it was... they did have a good idea though. The third floor forbidden corridor... apparently one of the doors opened up into a room with a Cerberus behind it. That would be a good place to start looking.

xxx

"And just why did we leave my invisibility cloak behind, again?"

"I told you, Harry... too much heavy reliance on a tool like that will make you go soft. And how many months has it been since our last burglary? At the rate this is going, next time we try, _someone_ will be so out of practice that he'll give us away by accident. And what if there's something that can see you through that cloak of yours, and gets you because your off your guard and assume that invisibility will protect you despite your still being able to be heard or smelled, and..."

"Okay, I get it."

"Quiet you two. _Alohomora_."

The door swung open and they felt a humid breeze accompanying the sounds of deep breathing.

"The Cerberus. Inside... I'll lock the door behind us. Carefully now... we can't assume that it's all they have guarding this thing."

"Yare yare..."

"It's waking up."

Indeed it was. One of the three heads was still partially asleep, but was sniffing their way, and the other two were awake and started to growl.

"Hmmph. I'll deal with this."

Herb stalked in front of the other two and stared down the massive beasts, something flashing in her eyes as her aura formed into the shape of a roaring dragon. Seconds ticked past as the dog stared her down before backing slowly away, still growling.

Ranma stepped past and heaved at the trapdoor.

"Hunh... it's a long way down."

"Maybe there's something at the bottom to break the fall?" Harry asked, walking up to peer down the hole with her.

Ranma nodded. Then stepped back and applied the sole of her foot to the small of Harry's back.

"Waaaaaaaaah! Daaaamn yooooou Raaaanmaaaaa!"

Ranma and Herb listened and he landed on something with an audible 'Whumph'.

"And what would you have done if there wasn't something to break the fall, Ranma?"

"... Brought sake to his grave. See you at the bottom."

Herb shook her head as Ranma hopped down the hole, and swiftly followed, although she was slowing her descent as she fell so that she would have landed softly anyway.

"What the hell is this stuff...?"

"It looks like some kind of plant."

Herb paused as she heard that and landed. The hesitation was just long enough.

"Wha? Tendrils!"

"Devils Snare, It'll strangle you to death! Stop moving, and it'll think you're dead and stop squeezing!"

Ranma and Harry froze, and the tendrils stopped tightening. They didn't let go, though.

"Okay... what do we do now?"

"Devils snare... it doesn't like light or... fire. Oh boy."

They could both hear Herb loudly inhaling.

"This is going to hurt..."

FWOOOSH!

xxx

Moments later, the slightly charred duo staggered through a door, followed by Herb.

"I did apologize..."

"You could have waited a minute! We _do_ know that Lumos spell. _That_ doesn't burn, and it would have been just as effective!"

Herb shrugged and looked up.

"Flying keys. How quaint. And look, broomsticks to catch them with."

"Anyone want to bet that it's not as simple as it looks?"

"No contest. Pick."

Herb tossed the little bit of bent metal to Ranma, who kneeled in front of the next door. After a few minutes, the lock clicked and the door swung open.

"Sheesh... that was only three tumblers. Might as well not have locked it at all."

"Ah. And now, an oversized board game. Can any of you play chess?"

There was a long moment of silence before Ranma coughed.

"You mean... with or without cheating?"

"Without."

"Then no."

"I never learned how the game works..." Harry admitted sheepishly, bringing a groan from Herb.

"If it were Shogi or Go, that would be one thing, but I've never played this. I'll have to remedy this. On the other hand, we can still cheat."

Ranma nodded and began climbing a pillar. Harry tried not to stare, as he'd seen this before, but watching her clutch to the stone and then scuttle across the ceiling like a spider was awe inspiring. The chess pieces were moving ominously, but could apparrently not leave the board.

Ranma dropped down on the other side and Harry sighed as Herb lifted him up by the back of his shirt. He seemed to be spending a lot of his time off the ground lately. Ranma caught him with a grunt and Herb began making her own way across. By this time the pieces were silently screaming at them and rattling their weapons, but they weren't within range so they slowly began to simmer down as they opened the door.

And noted the troll on the other side. Ranma whistled softly.

"Damn..." Harry muttered. "This one's at least twice the size of the one at Halloween."

"Quiet!... We're just lucky it's sleeping. We have to get through here without leaving any noticeable traces, remember? Leave it... crap! It's waking up! Knock it out, but don't kill it!"

Ranma slammed a fist between the trolls eyes and it swiftly returned to slumber.

"Let's keep moving."

The next room was interesting, in that there were no obvious traps... but Ranma and Herb's danger senses were still making themselves heard. And to good use as well, as the moment they approached the line of bottles in the center, two walls of fire sprang up in front of the doors.

"Well isn't that just dandy. More fire."

"I have no problems with fire."

"Yeah, me neither. Phoenix pill and soul of ice and all that. Harry, though..."

"Obviously, one of these potions will grant him at least temporary immunity to fire. To be specific, this small one here."

"How do you figure that?" Harry interrupted in shock. She'd only glanced at them.

"Because the little one is giving off a cool mist, and the stone it is sitting on is covered with a light frost."

Ah... so it was. Harry blinked, wondering why _he_ hadn't noticed that.

"See you on the other side." Herb said before following Ranma through the flame.

Harry shrugged and picked up the little bottle, noting that it felt like a block of ice in his hand, and took a tiny sip. It felt like all the blood in his body had turned into icewater, and his muscles into a semisolid slush. He ignored the discomfort as he replaced the bottle and stepped through the fire.

xxx

The last chamber had old, partially crumbling pillars holding the cracked roof up. To all three of them that screamed 'it's a trap, the roof's going to fall in, RUN!'... But they held their ground, waiting. No puff of dust from the cracks... no ominous rumbling... no creaks from the crumbling pillars... no, they were good for now.

"What's the mirror for?" Ranma wondered.

Harry was tired, frustrated, slightly singed, had been tossed around like a rubber ball, was sore, and was still shivering from the effects of that stupid potion. He wanted to find the stupid rock and get out of here, visit the kitchens for a slice or two of that pie they'd served earlier, then go back to the dungeons and sleep.

His reflection in the mirror smirked at him and he stiffened, recalling one of Ranma's anecdotes about a 'mirror clone'. He was ready to run at the first sign of danger... or lechery. But all that the reflection did was reach into its side pocket... And pull out what looked like a very large ruby or garnet, grinning. Then it dropped it back into the pocket.

Harry's own pocket sagged with the added weight and his eyebrows arched as he pulled it out to confirm that it was the rock he'd seen in the mirror, and that it did glow with an apparent inner fire.

"Well... that was easy. Now for stage two!"

"Stage two?"

"You didn't think that that rock was the only reason we came down here, did you Harry? If it was, we would have just powered our way through."

"Watch and learn..." Ranma muttered, as she and Herb drew their wands and turned to the door.

They began casting, explaining what they were doing as they did. A simple 'tripline' ward, to let them know when someone entered, and who it was. Then... they stopped.

"That's it?"

"Hardly." Herb grinned. "It's just that we won't need the wands for the rest.

"See this paper?" Ranma explained, pulling a sheet of paper from wherever the hell it was that she kept things on her person, along with a barrel of brightly colored plastic bombs that couldn't possibly have been hidden in her robes. "It's enchanted. Watch... tear it in half like so... set one piece on fire..."

"And the other burns at the same time..." Harry whispered, looking between the burning pieces of paper and the barrel of bombs. "Don't tell me..."

"Hell yes! And this room is just perfect... take out the pillars all at once, and it drops hundreds of tons of stone and earth on the vi-Target!"

"And we can't just... I dunno... let Quirrel frustrate himself by searching this room for the rock when it's not in here?"

Herb wisely decided to stay out of this discussion.

"If we kill him off thoroughly, that's one less possible enemy in the future."

"Why do you always have to go straight to killing people off? Couldn't we just leave them be and not have to kill anyone?"

"HA! Look who's talking, mister 'slayer of the feared dark lord while still in diapers'! You're right on the top of the hit list of every bad wizard looking to make a name for himself out there."

"Well... true, but..."

"But nothing."

"Well why do you always go for bombs then? I mean... if we have to kill this guy, couldn't we just slip him some sort of undetectable poison or something?"

"Harry, Harry, Harry. You have to learn that, in day to day life, there simply _is_ no problem that can't be solved with the application of explosives. Say someone throws a rock through your window, or a car passes you on the highway. Just-"

Herb finally broke up the discussion.

"Alright, we've come to the conclusion that Harry's a poisoner in the making and Ranma seems to have no morals or ethics left worth mentioning, so lets get on with this."

Both parties scowled and huffed. But once they got to work, it was surprisingly easy to rig the room to blow. The stone the pillars were made of actually appeared to be decomposing as it crumbled, and could easily be carved out with one's fingers. The bombs they had on hand were small, incredibly simple, and largely ineffective, but they would be more than enough to do the job.Especially with half a dozen embedded in the bottom of the pillars and layers of three or so imbedded in the soft stone every foot or so for as far up as they could reach.

What they lacked in quality could very nearly be made up for in quantity. Sure there were wards on this room... ancient ones... that looked like they were going to fail any day anyway. They would just be helping the progress along.

However, planting the many, many bombs was busy work, wrapping tiny pieces of paper around their fuses to light them all simultaneously even more so, and by the time they were finished... they had an hour, perhaps less, before their 'dormmates' would begin to wake up.

It wasn't like none of them had pulled all-nighters before... but they weren't used to it anymore. This would be hitting them hard, even with supplemental potions they had brewed beforehand for just this reason.

Fortunately, nobody seemed to notice their weariness. They stopped off in the Slytherin dungeon just long enough for them to quickly change their clothes, chug potions that turned their faces red and made steam shoot out of their ears, and wait for Harry to carefully conceal the stone they'd just burgled in with their dwindled supply of valuable jewelry and gemstones, easy camoflauge, and went to breakfast. If anyone took note that the three Slytherin first years looked a little more tired than usual... well, maybe they were up too late studying last night. They were, after all, first years and probably hadn't learned yet how to pace themselves. Nothing to worry about.

Of course, if they were not so good with their studies of Occlumency, the game would have been given away the first time they met Snape or Dumbledores gaze, and they would have been in a very great deal of trouble indeed. In fact, the only reason they _weren't_ discovered was because they had taken much harder to the study, in private and away from prying eyes, and had taken a completely different turn to it than normal.

Normal occlumency... well, it would be best to equate the mind to a scene to explain it. A meadow of tall grass and trees, for instance, infested by small, furry creatures representing memories. To someone who knew what they were doing, it was a simple matter to tell what animals would be nearby in such a meadow and where. Equate that to a Legilimencer glancing through the mind and taking note what was inside.

The occlumency would be like a wall surrounding the meadow, which the legilimencer would have to climb or find a crack in to slip through to the memories within. Typically, the only advancement of occlumency would be how 'high' or 'thick' or 'sturdy' you could make that wall. What the trio did though, was something different. Something sneakier.

They built their outer walls shoddily on purpose, leaving them 'low' and 'thin' and with the equivalent of gaping great holes that anyone could walk through... but it was a ruse. The memory animals in that meadow were the less important ones, day to day trivial memories of things that anyone could learn about on their own, with the occasional falsified memory to replace the ones that were hidden elsewhere. So for instance, if Dumbledore took a look at this section of their mind he could easily tell that they were thieves before coming to Hogwarts, but he would have no way of knowing just _how_ successful their 'business ventures' were, or even that most of them existed, and most of the memories available would indicate that they were, at best, pickpockets living hand to mouth.

Many things were removed completely from this 'meadow' and replaced with easily believable fakes. For instance, replacing everything they'd done over the winter break with images of themselves sunning on the beaches of Hawaii while sipping at tropical drinks with little umbrellas in them. If Dumbledore wanted to delude himself with pleasant falsehoods, far be it from them to stop him.

Of course... if an intruder was determined enough, and actually had some idea of what to look for, they could find the trapdoor at the base of the largest tree in the meadow, with stairs leading down... and here the 'meadow' metaphor runs dry, for one cannot descend underneath a meadow and find an identical one beneath. Let us then consider the next portion of the mind, containing everything they would prefer kept hidden, as an underground labyrinth, complete with traps, twisting and mind boggling tunnels, and mobile guardians to protect these more valuable memories, which could perhaps be equated with the treasures that might be found in such a place.

But like in the real world, one cannot find such a labyrinth unless one already knows its whereabouts. Much like how in reality, a few inches of dirt and grass seeds sprinkled over the top of the trapdoor to enter the place would swiftly provide camoflauge of a nature that thousands of years might be spent before it were accidentally uncovered.

So long as Dumbledore deluded himself and they presented the proper false front in the classes of finding Occlumency a difficult concept to grasp, perfectly believable as few grown wizards mastered either of the mental disciplines, their secrets were perfectly safe.

And so, with months still waiting before final exams and classes, inexplicably, growing more boring as time went on, given that they'd long since mastered everything that the teachers were only just now introducing them to, and the three had finally realized that, aside from the Prince's potion textbooks, they weren't learning anything new. And they'd left all of the truly interesting (read: Illegal...) tomes of magical lore at the manor, so...

Well, the trio bored was something nobody wanted, not even themselves. So they started exploring the castle in their spare time, between classes, and on their days off. Not unusual, as normal students explored Hogwarts as well for the first couple of years and usually stopped after not finding anything interesting. But normal students didn't have throngs of undead insects and damn near every snake from the Forbidden Forest helping them explore.

They found something.

xxx

Now, Hogwarts had, since shortly after its construction, been lauded as not one of, but _the_ finest institute of magical learning in the entire world. Most of the alumni just nodded and accepted that... but some people questioned why.

Was it the teachers?

Well... no. There were a few teachers that were quite competent in their fields of study, but there were a lot more that were merely mediocre and the rest were... hopelessly incompetent, to tell the truth. So no, it wasn't the teachers.

Was it that their students were all of higher grade material, then?

Ah... not really. As Ranma so eloquently put it 'If they're the best school in the country... then why are they so interested in us?' Most of the students at Hogwarts were just as sub par as the average teacher. Crabbe and Goyle spring directly to mind, but they were not the only students that would fail the rigorous entry exams to, say, the Academy of Magics or other places.

So if it wasn't the teachers and it wasn't the students, then what could it be? The Headmaster, maybe?

Well, he had been an excellent Transfiguration professor in his time, and he was loudly considered the most powerful wizard around, period, but... what exactly did that have to do with anything? He didn't, as a rule, get involved with individual students... Harry was the exception to this, as the old man had been eagerly working to ruin every facet of his life since shortly before he was actually born.

Just why, then, was Hogwarts considered the best when all of its facets were merely average?

The fact of the matter is that Hogwarts relied on its reputation to carry it through rough times. Once upon a time, there had been no Statute of Secrecy, but rather the sensible tradition of keeping the fact you could do magic to yourself and trusting that your neighbors would turn a blind eye if they happened to note something unusual. At that time, muggle and wizard relations were much closer.

Not close, you understand... but closer than they were now. At that time, the current monarch had a great deal of say on the schooling of the wizards in his kingdom.

You can already tell where this is heading, am I right?

One by one, for a variety of reasons, the monarchs had had certain specific classrooms and towers shut down and sealed away from the rest of the school. Not to say that it was impossible to get to them... just that all the main entrances had been bricked up and a teacher couldn't lead a group of students through series after series of hidden passages to get into the classroom, or have them climb up walls to get into a tower. It just wasn't done. So the Headmasters and Headmistresses of the time would just sigh, nod, and accept the monarch's ruling, making a note for when it came time to bug the next one about unsealing the classes.

Except...

The reason that the monarch had such power over Hogwarts was that the seal of office had been crafted by wizards. One day, that was lost... tossed into the river Thames by the monarch of the time in a fit of pique. Of course, the muggles built a new one. But without wizarding aid, the new seal didn't have the slightest bit of authority over either wizards or Hogwarts itself. The kings and queens couldn't lock away any more of the curriculum...

But without the seal, they couldn't open anything back up either.

Which meant that large sections of Hogwarts' study programs were suddenly cut out in their entirety, and many special rooms, rooms that were heavily enchanted in many ways but mostly the 'learn in your sleep' kind of enchantments, were left walled up... abandoned... and eventually, forgotten. It had been centuries since one of these rooms had produced a Bardic mage, or a Crafter, or True Alchemist, or given someone the gift of Tongues, or instilled the knowledge of the speech of certain animals, or trained in the use of sword, spear, and staff, and the stables where one would learn to properly ride every creature from unicorn to thestral to hippogryff to griffon to the mighty dragonsteeds had laid empty and gathering dust for ages.

Well. Until now, anyway.

xxx

"So... isn't this interesting. The snakes and spiders agree that there's definitely something inside that tower that we'd be interested in, but they can't say anything more than that. Some sort of secrecy charm over the whole place."

"And the door is locked and the lock melts whatever picks we try to use on it to worthless slag."

"So how do we get in?"

"I'm a bit low on bombs. If it was a stone or wood door that would be one thing, but this is a foot and a half of iron. Energy blasts?"

"On three. One... two..."

"Whoa, wait, Ladies!" Harry interrupted frantically. "If you don't mind my suggestion, our little scouts didn't get inside through this door. As far as I can tell, there's a window outside that's open a crack. If you'd prefer a way in without all the rampant destruction and noise and _alerting the whole school to where we are and what we're doing_ then perhaps we could use that as an alternate route? Hmmm?"

Herb shrugged and dissipated the glowing sphere of explosive energy in her palm, followed more slowly by Ranma.

"Good idea."

"But... I wanted to blow something up..."

Grumblings from the resident sociopath aside, the window was well within reach, but stuck when Harry tried to open it. After watching him fumble with it for a few minutes, Herb bodily moved him out of the way and pulled... accidentally tearing the entire windowframe out of the hole.

Eh... oops?

Still, after hoisting themselves through the hole left and magically levitating the window back into position, they finally took a moment to look around.

"Well, it's dark and cold and everything's covered with white sheets that are themselves covered in dust. The squares on the wall are probably portraits..."

"Is that a piano in the corner? And a harp in the other?"

Ranma summed it most succinctly with "The hells?"

A soft, amused cough dragged their attention to beside them, where an exceedingly pale and translucent woman was standing.

"Pardon me, but art though students here to study the ways of the Bard, here in the Tower of Song? Please say ye 'Yea', for it truly has been far, far too long... But I am remiss, and have not yet introduced myself! Mine apologies... I am the Lady-Professor Harmonious Medley. I do truly apologize for the remiss state of things. Tis been centuries since last a servant of any sort has entered here."

xxx

A.N. Back to seriousness. Relatively serious. Somewhat sirious. Would you believe just a little bit...?

Not sure if I got every bit of Lady Harmonious' old english grammar correct, but it sounds okay. I also have to wonder if I managed to pull Snape off properly. He's a fun character, but a difficult one as well... anyway! As some of you have probably guessed, I've been reading the Harry Potter-Bouquet and Sakura Bouquet splitoff threads.

Lionheart is awesome.

Brief summary of HP-B... Harry is raised by the Noir girls, Kirika and Mirielle. He's suffeciently talented with his gun and knife and wand for backup that shortly before the thread splits to Sakura Bouquet he kills roughly half of an invading force of over two hundred Acromantula _by himself_. Granted, they aren't all fully grown, but I still find this a damn impressive feat. You try telling me it's not, then _you_ can try playing a level of a video game where you're fighting a hundred or more giant spiders and kill them with a knife, a gun with four clips of ammo (Alt. a bow with four quivers full of arrows depending on the game) and just the lowest level of spells available to your character. And that's just when all you have to do is hit buttons at the right time.

Anyway, I'm deeply considering having Harry and co. conquer a third world country a-la Sakura Bouquet. I enjoyed the theme, very much so, especially when Sirus made it law that every judge in the country had to wear a rubber chicken on their head as part of their uniform, but I'd have liked to see more in the early stages of advancing their carribean island, rather than just some amusing info of what they were doing as the years passed. I wanted to see more of King James' day to day life. Ah well... If I go that route myself, I'll be doing it my way, complete with converting the place to an intermixed magical and muggle culture right under the ministry and Dumbledore _and_ the muggle government's noses. How's that for a coup!

And now, on to other things. I don't know if I addressed it yet, but someone mentioned that the winter holiday seemed to stretch longer than the entire first semester at Hogwarts. Yes. I did that on purpose, to make a point. The point being that, aside from the troll incident, pretty much NOTHING AT ALL HAPPENED in that first semester, which I'll assure you was a real letdown for our protagonists as well. They learned how to turn matches into needles and levitate things. Whoop-de-doo. I believe I mentioned beforehand that they mastered pretty much everything on the first-year curriculum with just a few days alone with the coursebooks and were not aware that Hogwarts seems to cater to the lowest possible denominator. The only thing they learned was Occlumency, which they all three swiftly mastered and improved upon. I'd presume that a martial artist that obviously knows at least a little about meditation would easily take to the concepts of clearing and ordering one's mind.

So yeah... the winter holidays seemed longer because they had a lot more packed into them to write about. The whole holiday was still technically done with in somewhere between two to three weeks. It just seemed like more to the reader.

Moving along again...

To be perfectly frank, I've never actually come out and said that this is a RanmaxHerb matchup. The only thing that comes close to that is the incident with the Count, that only points out that the two obviously _prefer_ women. I haven't revealed yet if they are, have been, or will be together. It could well end up that nobody is paired with anyone.

On the other hand, with the way I've arranged things, it could _also_ possibly end up in something of a freaking huge harem/orgy relationship where _every_ one of the characters pairs up with everyone else. And yes, when I say that I do include the male herd of centaurs, Griphook and his new 'pet', the troll in the slave pits, Draco(na) and Narcissa, _and_ Harry's undead parents. Perhaps throwing in such unexpected twists as Severus, the entirety of the Black family, Nagini, Dobby and Winky, a troupe or two of veela, a circus clown and twelve of his friends whose volkswagen just broke down, and maybe the Hungarian Horntail, Norbert, and the Giant Squid as well, depending on just how cruel I happen to feel at the time.

Yes, I _do_ do this to piss you off. Why do you ask?()


	12. Chapter 12

Honor Among Thieves

Chapter twelve

xxx

Ranma had leaned back into the wall to relax for a moment as Herb and miss Medley began working out which instrument to start Harry on. It wouldn't be the piano or the giant harp or the violin. Herb had those three covered, and the first two were too heavy to cart about without the aid of Mousse's hidden weapons shtick anyway. Ranma herself didn't know how to play any instruments, but didn't actually need to. Girl-type had always had a lovely singing voice. Conversely, as a male, she couldn't have carried a tune in a bucket, but what could you do?

She paused and blinked... then her eyes widened. Someone had just tripped the ward they'd left behind in the underground chambers. That had been fast. She tugged out a specific twist of paper and began patting herself down for matches.

Elsewhere, a ways off and a long way down, Quirrel was staring deep into a mirror and muttering to himself. The shade of Voldemort was ignoring him, staring irritably at the underside of the turban concealing him. Somehow he had a nagging feeling that something was horribly wrong with the situation.

"I can see the stone... yes, I have it... I am presenting it to my master... but _where_ is it! And what is that infernal hissing!"

Voldemort's eyes widened, suddenly noticing the background noise himself. Everything snapped into focus.

"A trap! Flee, you fool, _flee_!"

Quirrel turned just as the bombs went off. He was halfway across the room as the pillars crumbled to dust and the roof began to groan inwards. A desperate leap for safety, fueled by every drop of adrenaline he could muster... failed to save him, as he landed just short of the door.

The shade of Voldemort hovered in the next room for a moment, glowering at the rapidly spreading red stain. A bloody trap. He should have known from the start that it had been too good to be true. To move the Philosopher's Stone from a secure lockup at Gringotts to a lightly defended set of rooms in the middle of a castle full of children that needed constant minding? It had seemed too good to be true. Now he finally understood that it was. A trap the whole time... that canny old _bastard_. Pieces were quickly falling into place. He couldn't have realized that Voldemort himself would be directly overseeing this, however. And Voldemort was quite surprised at how... savage... the leader of the light's reprisal had been. Something didn't quite add up.

But he'd work it out later. For now, he had to retreat. His pawn was dead and, without a body to inhabit, it would become more and more difficult to manifest himself. This round, it seemed, went to the old man.

Ranma opened her hand and blew the ashes within out the window as Herb and miss Medley came to an agreement. Flute it was.

xxx

The next morning found Dumbledore standing once again before the entire school. He was growing quite vexed. This year alone had him addressing the students and faculty more than the past several combined.

"It seems" He began. "That our Defense Professor has left us last night on some truly urgent family business. The end of the year defense exam has therefore been cancelled, and Severus will be filling in as a substitute for the few weeks left of the year in addition to his potions classes."

He sat back down amid the mixed response of cheers and groans at this news and mumbled grumbles from the staff that had seen what had really happened to Quirrel.

"Albus... 'Family Business'? Really."

"Would you rather I tell the children that their professor died in the attempt of thieving a priceless artifact? One that has, it seems, been completely destroyed due to his little 'accident'?"

"Well..."

"Trust me, Minerva. This is for the Greater Good. They're happier not knowing the truth."

Snape snorted quietly into his coffee, unnoticed, as a similar conversation took place at his table.

"'Family business'?"

"Bullshit. Did a headcount. Nobody else was missing. He was the one."

"Kinda surprising, really."

"But it also makes a creepy sort of sense."

"I wonder what he wanted it for?"

"Who cares. Do we even know what it is?"

"Shiny and red. Possibly valuable. 'Sides that, no idea."

"What on _earth_ are you three talking about?" Hermione interrupted, brow creased in confusion. The trio gave her a unanimous baleful stare before Harry answered her.

"I'm afraid that's for us, alone, to know... and you to stay up late at night and stare at the ceiling wondering about."

She huffed and turned her full attention to her breakfast before leaving to wander off dutifully to the first class of the day under her reworked schedule. It was History, with Binns, and the trio fully intended to skip it. They learned more, and faster, simply by reading the books. Instead, they would be sifting through more of the information their spies had managed to collect, seperating what was potentially useful from the typical junk. The ratio had, of course, begun to swing towards higher and higher levels of 'junk', but that was just to be expected and there were still a few diamonds to be found in every one of these sessions.

Although it was also fun to send the rumor mills churning every once and a while with an innocently dropped piece of inconsequential information and see what the shifting waters produced. And really, by now they knew just about every bit of embarassing information there was to know about every other student in the school, so they could _well_ and truly ruin someone's life if they chose. Nabiki would probably be proud. Harry slipped a couple of oranges into his robe pocket for the fairies. They had proven to be an utter flop in their intended role of miniature spies... as it turned out, while the caretaker's cat would avoid the snakes and spider zombies secretly prowling the castle (A wise decision, as most were A: Poisonous and/or B: Larger than it) the fairies were instantly labeled as targets and possible snacks.

It wasn't that the fairies couldn't deal with the disreputable feline, if it came to that. It was that it would end up being a loud battle, full of hisses, yowls, and screeches, and chances were that by the end of it everyone would know about 'Potter's pet fairies'. Which would, of course, be exactly the worst possible outcome so it was really more of a certainty. And _that_ would lead to questions. Which, depending on who exactly was asking, and what, could be anything from simply a bad thing to a full blown catastrophe.

And now the morning grind... he was getting far more practice in this little trick than he would have preferred. Walk away from the table and out the main door of the great hall, a slight twist of focus just before he stepped around the corner, and he quietly walked in between the two pairs of Gryffindors leaning against the wall and waiting for him, even as their eyes slid over him as though he wasn't there. He contemplated doing something... petty... for a moment before he decided against it and continued on. Their ongoing failure to catch him alone was both punishment and amusement enough.

xxx

Ronald Weasley wasn't exactly sure _how_ he'd managed to get put in charge of the 'Make Potter Repent' efforts, but he'd been getting a sinking feeling about it as more and more (Read: every single one) of his plans in that regard had failed. He was beginning to envy Neville, who'd panicked and ducked responsibility when the older students had tried to dump it on _his_ head, then followed it up by cowardly fleeing to the Puffs. He knew full well that he should have started questioning things when the older students were willing to follow the plans he made, but he just couldn't resist showing off his chess instilled sense of strategy.

And it seemed that he would be paying for it soon as, when the strategy failed, he was found to be the one to blame. Unless, of course, he could redirect that blame swiftly enough.

"You moronic, incompetent, simpering, useless _buffoons_!"

Ron had gotten the hang of shifting blame pretty quickly. Also, he'd made a point of expanding his vocabulary for the effect.

"I give you one job, one simple task, and you fail me utterly. All you had to do was stand in one place, wait for Potter to pass, and stupefy him. Or is a simple stunning spell beyond your meager abilities? What was that? Speak up, I can't hear you if you mumble."

The nameless and surprisingly cowed third-year's eyes flicked across the glowers of everyone in the room except the other three who'd failed alongside him before he mumbled a little louder.

"Disappeared? You claim that in between the few yards between the door to the great hall and the first turning, Potter disappeared. Do I really look that stupid to you? There are no hidden passages in that patch of castle, just solid rock, so unless you would have me believe that Potter whipped out an invisibility cloak and-"

Ron paused and frowned, then began muttering to himself.

"Invisibility cloak... _an invisibility cloak_. Those are very rare, very expensive. No way. But... how much money does Potter have, exactly? _Very_ expensive. Even so... Why are you still here? Go. I'll have to think about this. An _invisibility cloak_, for merlins sake..."

Slowly, the others all wandered out, heading off to class, to catch a nap, study, or to secretly report to one of the staff, as was their wont. Ron remained behind, thinking furiously. On the one hand, there was no proof whatsoever that Potter had such an artifact. On the other, there was no proof that he _didn't_, either, and all sorts of things had begun falling into place.

The door, left ajar by a careless second year, creaked slightly. He spun, bringing his wand to bear. What was that sound? Was it his imagination, or could that be someone's footfalls? His mind whirled, imagining all the worst possible things one could do with an invisibility cloak.

Now he _was_ still only eleven, and so the images flashing through his mind were nowhere near as bad as they could be, but they were more than enough to make him break out in a cold sweat. And as he left, his eyes kept darting into the shadows, seeking something he knew he wouldn't see, and growing more anxious every time he didn't see it.

In under a week, he would be a nervous wreck, jumping at small noises and flinging hexes into empty shadows. A week after that were the exams, after which the professors convened and discussed his odd behaviour, took a vote, and stunned him from behind so that he could be shipped home to unwind.

Naturally, as all he knew about this was that one moment he was walking to the great hall, and the next apparent one he was waking up at home, it only made things worse.

xxx

Draco arched an eyebrow at the tableau.

The room was full of spiders, varying in size from the common pea-sized variety to creatures as large as a midsize dog, and snakes of similarly varied size. Harry was off to one side, holding a whispered conversation with a black viper of some sort that was resting on his shoulders as the rest mingled near him on the floor or twined partway up his legs. Ranma was chalking a diagram on the floor that made Draco's head swim and vision blur to look at, occasionally stopping to consult a book wrapped in something that looked like leather and smelled like rot. Was that... an eyeball set in the spine? It was quickly decided that the book was not something Draco's attention should linger on either. Herb was asleep, twined with her cat in a position that brought to mind images of a mother tigress. The spiders made a point of remaining out of her arms reach, for some reason... ah. Draco grimaced at the sight of one of the larger ones that she had apparently torn limb from limb in her slumber.

"So this is what you three do when you ditch class, then. How very dreadful to discover that in this one instance, at least, the rumors flying about are so much more interesting than the truth."

"They should be." Harry countered as Ranma continued her work. "After all, we arranged the start of most of them."

"Even the one that claims that the three of you hit puberty early and-"

"And when I find the person who started _that_ one, I owe them a serious kick in the arse. But please, have a seat."

Draco spared a glance across the available seats. They were very nice... looked quite comfortable. Cozy even. They were also covered by thousands upon thousands of spiders.

"You know if it's alright with you, I think I'd prefer to stand. I won't be here long anyway, I merely wished to ask as to what your plans for the summer might be."

"An exchange of information seems to be in order, then, as I'd like to know how you found us. And, of course, if anyone else knows where to look. It would be dreadful if it should prove neccessary to... Hm. _Quiet_ someone."

Draco blinked slowly.

"'Quiet'. Poor choice of words, Potter. It just doesn't have any... you know. Dramatic impact."

"Aheh..." Harry scratched at the back of his neck, looking slightly sheepish. "I... uh... usually leave the whole 'subtle menace' thing to the girls, but... well, you've caught us at a bad moment, I'm afraid, with Ranma in the middle of her little experiment."

"Yes, I noticed... um. Is it supposed to start glowing?"

"I wouldn't know. I try not to pay too much attention to her experiments." That was putting it delicately at the least. Some of the things would leave him waking in the middle of the night, strangling off a scream and covered in a cold sweat. That's what happens when you hang out with a necromancer or demon summoner. And Ranma was both.

"Ah... Well I can assure you that I took the time to make sure nobody followed me, and given how dusty the labyrynth is, it wasn't very hard at all to follow your trail. I would advise that you have a word with a few of the castle elves about getting it cleaned. It'll be immediately obvious that someone's using the place, but it'll be a lot harder to track down _exactly_ where you three get off too."

"Yeah..." Harry considered the suggestion. It _did_ seem reasonable. All the more reason to step back and consider it from every possible angle before doing it. "I'll take that under advisement. As to summer plans... The only fixed stop at this time is Diagon, to do some shopping. Everything else is still up in the air."

"Ah." Draco gave an odd half-smile. "In that case, allow me to invite you to stop by the Malfoy manor. Perhaps the fourteenth? Mother was rather disappointed that she didn't get a chance to meet you last time. I'll-"

Draco was interrupted by a shrill scream as foul, yellow smoke appeared inside the dodecahedragram and coalesced into a five foot tall woman with spines in place of hair and digitigrade legs that ended in reptilian claws. She had leathery skin... and no clothes on, Harry noted with a second pass, before blushing and averting his eyes.

"What is thy bidding, my... Mistress? Odd. You're a bit young for the standard contract too."

"Standard contract?" Ranma asked with an arched brow.

"Eh, the normal thing. I warm your bed until you die, and then _when_ you die I get your soul. Simple and clearcut, with no loopholes."

"Ah. How droll. One moment."

Ranma fished into the satchel at her side to pull out a stack of parchment and a quill. With a flick of her wand, the quill dipped itself in a nearby inkpot and set to the first piece of parchment.

"Testing... yes, that works." Ranma turned and began rummaging through the chest behind her as she began a monologue.

"Experiment has thus far been a success, summoning progressing with no snags or hitches and resulting in the arrival of what appears to be a class E-delta succubi. Subject appears sentient, prompting minor and momentary reservations. Subject also displays mercenary tendencies similar to a certain other of our acquaintance, thoroughly ending those reservations."

"Well, uh, hello? Demoness? Can we get on with this?"

"Yes... lets. Starting experimentation into physical resilience of class E-delta succubi, heretofore to be referred to as 'Subject A'."

"... That doesn't sound fun at all."

"Oh, I assure you..." Finding what she was looking for, Ranma withdrew a military grade shotgun that Harry was absolutely sure he didn't want to know how she'd gotten. "I intend to enjoy it thoroughly."

Ch-Chak... BLAM.

"Y-you _shot_ me! You crazy bitch-child!"

Ch-chak... BLAM, Ch-chak... BLAM, Ch-chak... BLAM.

Ther was a long, awkward silence as the succubi slumped to the floor, bleeding profusely. Ranma nudged it with the tip of the shotgun, but it remained limp. Replacing the weapon to its proper place in the chest, she began rummaging around once more.

"Subject A has proven itself capable of shrugging off the damage of a shotgun blast at close range with no apparent injury. Three such blasts in close succession, however, seems to have been more than its system could handle, leading to further questions as to the exact nature of the resilience displayed. However, further experimentation shall have to be postponed until Subject A has recovered from its wounds and been properly restrained in whatever room of our residence can be outfitted into a makeshift laboratory at soonest notice. End log."

She began hauling out and unraveling a heavy length of chain and manacles. Harry coughed lightly into his fist.

"Soo.. the fourteenth, was it?"

xxx

"I still can't believe he just... shrugged that all off so easily. It was a freaking _demon_." Harry mumbled.

"Demon_ess_." Came a muffled retort from one of the trunks overhead, further grumbling silenced by a flick from three wands. That would be just what they _didn't_ need, to be caught smuggling a demon, even a very weak one, through their luggage.

"Whatever. I'm tired... spent most of the night sitting up waiting for a torch-and-pitchfork-mob thing to happen."

"You're too paranoid."

"You're saying this when you're about to do the wand tracking charm removal thing again?"

"If they really are out to get you, then it's not technically paranoia."

Harry grunted and tossed his wand Ranma's way, then pulled the hood of his cloak over to shade his face.

"Wake me when we're close enough to have to change."

xxx

_You have returned, successful in your quest._

_The philosopher's stone, stone of transmutation._

_Key to the creation of gold, source of the elixir of life. It is yours._

_Nice touch with the trap for your opponent, by the way._

_You have earned the right to practice magics of the true light._

_Speak in our name, and we shall hear._

_Call upon us for aid, and it is yours._

_Now for your final test._

_Which path shall you walk?_

The world dissolved into crystal butterflies.

xxx

Harry's eyes snapped open and Ranma stopped poking him with his wand, dropping it to fall into his lap. Why... ah, right. He could feel the way the old train had begun to slow down, meaning it was time to change.

Naturally, 'change' was defined in this situation as 'tug off the cloak and stuff it in a trunk', as all three of them made a point of wearing mundane clothing underneath. A matter of efficiency, and if it got a little warm sometimes... well, that was what wands and temperature control charms were for. Although their chained up acquaintance managed to spare him a baleful glare before he closed the trunk back up and locked it.

The screeching of brakes were a subtle hint that it was time to levitate the trunks down and stack them properly as Herb went of to find one of the folding trolleys packed onto the train, Lyme trailing quietly behind her. It was only a matter of minutes to wait for the train to come to a full stop, quietly wheel their way out through the crowds of people welcoming their children home for the summer, and out through the magic wall.

And coming to a stop right in front of one Vernon Dursley. Harry blinked and snapped his arm up to point at him.

"You... you're... uh... you're... that fat guy I used to live with! Give me a minute, I'm rather horrible at recalling the names of corpulent nonentities that I'd pleasantly deluded myself into the belief that I'd never run across again. Vermin, was it? Such a _pleasure_ to meet you again, Vermin. Such a coincidence running across you as well, but I'm afraid I have business elsewhere- Ah!"

Vernon's large, meaty hand had clapped down on Harry's shoulder and _squeezed_ as he lowered his face, having grown steadily darker with every word out of his mouth. However, a quiet, distinct click cut off whatever he might have been about to say. He turned his head slowly to stare down the barrel of Ranma's gun, and the color of his face began receding in blotches as he broke out in sweat.

"Don't bother calling for help. Herb has placed a silencing spell on you, and there are so many magical wards and secrecy enchantments placed on the wall behind us to prevent muggles accidentally finding their way in that I could shoot you right now and absolutely nobody would notice or care. Release him."

Vernon lifted his hand off Harry's shoulder, carefully, making no sudden moves that might set off the apparrent madwoman.

"Good, good. Now..." Her wand came out in her other hand. "_Legilimens._"

It took only the work of a moment to ransack the idiot's memories, finally finding what she was looking for as an image of an old, bearded wizard handed off a stack of bills to Vernon and told him where to find Harry Potter, who would be returning to his house for the summer. She withdrew and considered for a moment.

"Obliviate." Vernon's face went slack and his eyes glazed as the spell began its work. "You will go to the restroom and spend anywhere between twenty and thirty minutes relieving yourself before you return here. You will not recall seeing any of us, but will wait for another hour for Harry to come through the wall. When he doesn't, you will grow frustrated and go to a bar to buy yourself a few drinks before you drive home."

"Isn't it pretty likely that he'll die?" Herb wondered aloud as Vernon staggered off.

"That's what I'm hoping for." Ranma explained as they continued out of the station, working to be long gone as fast as possible. "You see, it was Dumbledores machinations that put him here, and there's no way he could hide his thoughts from _him_, and obliviation would only conceal them for so long. No, with luck, by tomorrow morning Vernon Dursley will have had a _tragic_ car accident with nothing to connect his end to us, or to suggest that he even met us today. You can't read the thoughts of a corpse, after all."

Harry grumbled something under his breath and rubbed at his shoulder. Judging by the throbbing ache it had subsided into, he was going to be bruised.

"Asshole." He muttered under his breath. "Hey, you guys go on ahead to the Manor... I need to make a stop by Gringotts."

xxx

"So, Baron, you want to kick your relatives out of the house they're living in, have it burned to the ground, and then build a night club catering to homosexual BDSM on the charred earth?"

Harry nodded and Griphook snapped his fingers.

"A standard number twelve. I'll have the form drawn up momentarily... While you're here, however, I wonder if you could look over some of these possible investments? Also, I've recieved several letters from your staff and slaves, regarding some suggestions as to remodeling your manor. Of course, nothing can be done without your approval, Baron. I'll be back momentarily. Just look through these phamplets."

Harry shifted from vindictive, petty vengeance mode to money driven businessman in a heartbeat as he reached for the stack of papers.

The Musk Butchery and Slaughterhouse was doing quite well. He was still surprised at how well that little spur of the moment innovation had turned out... by now, the Manor was probably swimming in minions. Speaking of which, this little packet was from Gnarl.

He quickly skimmed the handwritten note... ah. He'd located several items that the Manor was missing. He also mentioned that some of them were protected by the same sort of field that the Heart had had. He'd actually have to go out and bring those back on his own. Others, however, apparently did not. That meant that he could just purchase them and have them shipped to the manor. Conveniently, most of those were in the hands of the goblins and those that weren't they could acquire... for a small fee, of course. Harry quickly put his signature to the proper lines. He really had no idea what the things he'd just bought were good for, but he could grill Gnarl about that later.

Hmm... Hrothgar wanted a distillery. Apparently, while he could make enough alcohol at once for himself _or_ Gloin to get completely smashed, _together_ they could only get mildly tipsy, at best. That wasn't even factoring in the possibility that someone else might decide they wanted a flagon or two. Harry signed off for that as well. Happy workers were productive workers, and it was entirely possible that he would be ordering one or both of the heavy drinkers to die for his amusement sometime in the future. Really, it was only polite.

Similar reasoning led to him signing off on orders for a greenhouse, refurbishing one of the basement levels into a dungeon (For 'recreational reasons'. He didn't look any further into it.), and agreeing with Klinky's complaints about being overworked and falling behind on her duties. Another couple of elves would fix that nicely enough.

Back to business investments. Fish processing plant... why not. Consider it a maybe for now. Shipping and trading... sure. Brothels? Harry wrinkled his nose and tossed those sheets back to the table, determined to ignore them. _Not_ a business he was interested in. Other than that, though... a little of this... a little of that... and the Musk account would be swelling.

He was about halfway through the pile before Griphook returned.

"Just sign here, Baron. Ah, very good. Now... is there any other business?"

"N-... Yes, actually." He changed his mind in mid-syllable and began digging through his pockets. "Where is it, where... ah. I was wondering if you could direct me to someone who could identify this for me."

Griphook went very still and quiet as Harry withdrew that red rock and set it on the table. He began to slowly reach for it, radiating a sudden intense greed, before catching himself and drawing his hands back.

"My lord Baron..." he began, a definite note of awe in his voice. "Where, exactly, did you find this?"

"Uh... on... the ground?" Harry began, suddenly dearly wishing he'd thought to plan out a cover story ahead of time. Griphook smirked.

"Really, my dear Baron... you're a horrible liar. Perhaps I should take a moment to remind you that Gringotts is quite confidential, and a little secret... 'Thief' has always been a respected profession among goblinkind. As long as the goblins aren't being stolen from, that is. Now, perhaps I could ask again?"

Harry considered for a moment. Crap. The girls were going to kill him. Or worse.

"If you insist. My ah... _partners in crime_ and I found this object at the end of a series of rooms, lightly guarded with a rather juvenile magical obstacle course. It was rather offensive, just how easily we got through... I dare to guess that we could have managed it even were we entirely inexperienced with... ah... acquiring things. Naturally, we couldn't bear to leave the thing in the hands of someone who had guarded it so poorly. And then all but told everyone where to look for it, the fool. Now the only question remaining is what, exactly, the object is."

Griphook reached over, hesitating when his hand was only inches away, sending a silent query with a glance. Harry nodded and he lifted the red rock, bringing it close to his face, inspecting it from every angle before grinning wildly.

"This is... quite possibly _the_ most rare and valuable magical artifact ever created. I've seen a great many flawed imitations, useless paperweights all, being pushed by conmen and shysters... but this! This is the genuine article. The Philosopher's Stone... pinnacle of the alchemical art. It can transmute base materials into the purest gold, and produces the elixir of life, which halts aging and extends ones lifespan indefinitely. Wars have been fought in the attempt to steal this."

Griphook very reluctantly set the Stone back down, obviously having to fight to release the artifact.

"It would be wise, Baron, if nobody knew you had that. I, myself, shall swear an oath of silence on the matter. Attempting to wrest the stone from the legendary Nicholas Flamel... that's one thing. Taking it from a wizard who has only just passed his first year of schooling? That is another thing entirely... even if that wizard happens to be 'The Boy Who Lived'."

Griphook scowled severely.

"As much as I hate to say it... I think your wisest course of action in this case is to return the stone to its owner. Older magic-users have a heirarchy and system all their own, with favors being their coin of choice. Nicholas Flamel, as the oldest currently living wizard ranks quite high on the totem pole, and returning his stone would be a very quick way into his good graces."

"Ah." Harry sighed deeply. It was really a shame. "So, where does he live, then?"

xxx

A.N.

A good bit shorter than usual. I have to apologize for that. You see, I kinda had to start this chapter over from scratch and couldn't exactly recall offhand everything I'd written. I'm almost sure that this is pretty close to what I'd intended, so that's good enough.

If the succubus seems kinda weak... that's because it is. I'm currently debating whether to make it a long term character, or to kill it off in Ranma's pursuit of knowledge. Depends on what I feel would be funnier at the time, I guess.

Also, how do you people feel about Illithids? You might also call them Mindflayers, or simply 'Those freaky squid-headed brainsuckers'. I might also be considering a Basilisk vs. Abomination/Beholder showdown sometime during second year as well. And I'm debating whether Mint or Galaera should recieve Hogwarts invitations. Might throw some definite plot twists into the works.


	13. Chapter 13

Honor among Thieves

Chapter thirteen

xxx

It seemed that Mr. Flamel was a fan of Lord of the Rings. The location Harry had been given was deep in the countryside, behind a powerful muggle-repelling ward, and was an impressive replica of a hobbit home. Albeit, sized for human-folk.

Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he walked up and knocked on the round door. After a moment, a terse reply came from inside.

"Go away! We don't want any well wishers, traveling salesmen, or distant relations."

"Oh?" Harry called back. "Then what about a new friend, bearing a gift."

After a long, terse silence, the door creaked open and an old, balding man in a rusty chain shirt appeared.

"Gift, lad? The only thing in the world that I want right now, you couldn't possibly give me."

In reply, Harry simply removed his hand from his pocket and showed off the stone resting in his palm.

"Ah..." Flamel mumbled. "Maybe... Maybe you could, at that. Oh, where are my manners. Come in lad, come in."

Harry stepped through the doorway and into the circular hall as Flamel closed and locked the door behind them.

"So lad... what do you want? Nobody but a fool would return this to me, with no thought to their own gain. Can't be gold, no... if gold was your desire, you'd not have returned it at all. So what then? Knowledge? I know secrets long since lost to the mists of time. I was around when they were lost, after all. Hm? Power, perhaps? There are many roads to power, and all have a price to be paid. There are, of course, ways of lessening the cost. Well?"

Harry shook his head.

"I ask for nothing but whatever you choose to grant your unworthy servant."

"Heh... polite. I like that. Humble too... a rare quality to be found in youngsters of any age, and I should know."

Flamel stroked at his wispy beard, eyes twinkling as he carefully tucked his stone away somewhere. Apparently, it was a technique passed from him to Dumbledore. That, or it was simply something that happened to wizards when they got old.

"Follow me, lad."

Flamel led Harry through the halls, a tightly knit web of corridors that swiftly bewildered an unwary wanderer. After a short time, Harry was not certain if he would be able to return to the entrance hall on his own. After a little longer, he was certain he could not.

After what seemed like hours of wandering, the elderly wizard came to a halt at what seemed to be just another door, exactly like the many others they'd passed. He paused and winked before opening the door and motioning for Harry to step through into the blinding sunlight.

When his eyes adjusted, he barely managed to stifle a gasp. It was beautiful. Like a stereotypical fantasy land, but real. Unicorns were gathering in a quiet glade, with fairies flittering about and between them. A dragon like none he had ever seen before slumbered quietly on a distant mountainside. Was that... could it be a phoenix nesting in those trees? And in the middle of the valley stood a stately castle, like Hogwarts, but a pristine alabaster where Hogwarts' walls had faded to a dull grey, and even crumbled in places.

"Ah. I did think you'd enjoy the view."

Harry blinked. The voice was different... deeper... younger sounding. He turned and took in the rejuvenated Flamel. His hair was thick and had returned to a coppery color, with only the tiniest streaks of gray. He seemed to be several inches taller than before, and his armor was as shiny as though it had just been polished. He was venerable, but not decrepit.

"Surprised, lad? What you saw of me back there was an illusion, a glamour crafted to pander to the needs of those few visitors that I recieve now and again. They read about me in books and imagine a venerable old man, with more than a few eccentricies. Things just go more smoothly if I work around their ingrained beliefs, rather than smash through them with the bitter reality of things."

"I... I see. I assume then, that the Elixer of life halts, or reverses aging, rather than the commonly held belief that it simply allows it to continue indefinitely?"

"Bright lad. In any case, welcome to my little nature preserve. I've been transplanting species here for centuries, ever since they began to decline in numbers. My little last ditch attempt to keep them alive. And where safer than here?"

He gestured grandly about himself, then turned and closed the door before locking it again.

"This place is a multi-layered magical construct, existing outside time and space. Everything in here I transplanted from the earth and, if you go about, oh, a hundred miles or thereabouts in any direction from the castle, you'll reach the end of my little kingdom. Beyond that is just empty space."

"Fascinating. A dimensional overlay?"

"I see you're interested in the subject."

"Oh, no... I have a pair of friends, though, who claim to be from... somewhere else."

"Hmm... interdimensional travelers, you mean? Rare, but I've come across records of a case or two."

"The way they tell it, they were ambushed and banished by their enemies because they were too powerful to face in honorable combat."

"I see. Your friends sound like interesting individuals. You should introduce us sometime. For now, let me give you the grand tour."

xxx

Much later, just a couple hours after dawn, Harry's mind was still awhirl as he staggered through the fireplace and into his own Manor. He'd known that unicorns were rare, but he'd had no idea that they only even existed in three places, and that Flamel's reserve held half of the entire species! He only had just enough to start a viable population, and would soon have to start sneaking unicorns into the other two herds if he wanted the species as a whole to survive outside of his reserve. And it _had_ been a phoenix he'd seen in those trees. Apparently the majority of the species preferred to live there, as the only humans that could go there were Flamel and his wife. And Harry, now, too.

For that matter, there were species living there that he hadn't ever heard of! The Wild Elves, from which the diminutive race of House Elves had sprung, along with a half dozen others, for example. House elves could be controlled by wizards, preferred to be even, but the wild ones couldn't and didn't, and so were edited out of existence by the ministry. As were many more species of fantastic creatures that were entirely extinct outside Flamel's little preserve.

_Dumbledore_, even, hadn't been invited into Flamel's little sanctum. That was despite the fact that the two had had a working relationship that had spanned decades. For some reason, Flamel had never entirely trusted the man, despite his many efforts to ingratiate himself with his 'Partner'. Flamel felt that he was simply trying to build up his own fame. For instance, in reality, nine of the lauded uses of dragon's blood had already been discovered by Flamel years before the 'project' ever began. Dumbledore, however, had seen fit to take an equal share of the profits of the 'discovery'. Flamel hadn't cared much about the money, after all he had an unlimited source of gold, but it was an event that had set the tone for the rest of their long relationship. Frankly, he was awed that the benevolent old wizard had seen fit to show him the beauty of that place.

"About time you got back." Herb said, bustling into the room and grabbing him by the shoulder before continuing to the door on the opposite end of the room. "I need you to summon me up twenty... no, thirty evil minions."

And, with the pinprick of reality, his bubble of impressed awe and beauty was shattered and he reverted to character.

"What the hell do you need so many for?"

"Eh, cannon fodder, mostly. Gnarl's found the Blue Hive, but we're going to have to get it from a swamp stuffed full of zombies... other stuff too, but mostly zombies. And not the pleasant, sociable kind like your parents are now, but the brain-dead-y, limping, 'eat you' kind."

"Ah... great." Harry grumbled. "And we have to go along to this filthy sinkhole of dead flesh?"

"Unless you want your minions to creatively kill themselves in mind-bogglingly stupid ways without your supervision, then yes. Remember, they're only just born when you create them and it takes time for their brains to develop to anything more than an 'it's moving, hit it!' mentality. Obviously, as their Lord and Master, you and your close allies are exempt from that rule. Speaking of which, let's make a dozen more and have them carry a couple of chairs so we don't actually have to slog through that mire ourselves."

"That's... a pretty good idea, actually." Harry realized, as they entered the basement where the Brown Hive was situated. "Better than the really long shower I was planning afterwards. Actually, I'll probably be taking that shower anyway. Hey Gnarl, two chairs."

Gnarl snapped his fingers and a pair of Browns ran off, gibbering and cackling to themselves.

"Ah, while we're at it, Lord, if you would be so kind as to read through this memo I prepared?"

Harry plucked it out of Gnarl's hands and frowned at the title.

"'The Evil Overlord List'. Subtitled 'The top Hundred things to keep in mind, should the reader ever happen to become an Evil Overlord'. This... looks like a computer printout. What the hell, Gnarl?"

"Ah... you... you recognized that." The aged Minion stated, shoulders drooping somewhat with dissappointment. "So maybe I just stole it off the muggle Internet, the advice is still quite sound. I've seen more than one Overlord fall prey to some of the mistakes listed there."

"Bwhu... But how did you get it in the first place?" Harry had to asked. "I'm pretty sure magic is supposed to play havoc with electronics."

"Yes, yes, anti-magic barriers, runic wards carved into the devices themselves, EMP hardening, but these are servant matters, My Lord. Just trust that it works."

Harry grunted, but flipped through the stapled papers nonetheless. Slowly, his other eyebrow arched to join the first.

"This... this is..." He stammered, before frowning and glaring at Gnarl. "This is the most inane set of glaringly obvious 'tips' that I've ever seen in my life."

"Ah, indeed my Lord. However, I'm afraid that once one gains the power of being an Overlord, certain things such as... oh, common sense, self control, logical thought... they all go right out the window at some point. Usually the worst possible one."

"Enlightening as this is-" Herb interrupted, " Could we get on with the minion-summoning and zombie-smashing, please? Some of us _do_ have other things to do today."

"Right, right." Harry grumbled, gesturing towards the Hive. After a moment of no reaction, he gestured again, more violently, and Gnarl's eyes widened.

"Careful, Master!" He squealed and jumped back, scrambling up the wall. Barely a moment passed before the Hive shuddered and began disgorging Minions, dozens at a time. "The hive takes a short time to respond, but is extremely sensitive."

Harry's eye twitched as the large room filled with Minions, and they began to pour out of the doors.

"I... kinda noticed."

Mere moments later, the entire huge room was packed, wall to wall, with gibbering minions. Harry glowered down at his feet.

"How... how much life force has that slaughterhouse brought in by now, then?"

"Lots." Herb replied. "We're supplying a good chunk of the wizarding world with meat now, and wizards like to eat. We slaughter, oh, a good hundred chickens a day, a dozen or two cows, some goats and turkeys for flavor... that's been going on for months nw." She elaborated. "We also have a, ah, smaller business on the side from beings with... interesting tastes. Turns out goblins really like dogs."

"That's nice." Harry said, not quite catching the significance.

"I don't mean as pets."

There was a long moment of silence, before Harry caught on and winced slightly.

"Uh... oh. That's... oh."

"They pay very well... and we pick up strays from the pound that nobody wants. They're about to be put to sleep anyway."

"No need to explain, just... wow. We... we're slaughtering puppies now. I'm just... surprised."

"Not puppies... puppies tend to be cute, which means they get picked up pretty quick by some excited wide-eyed brat... and then they die anyway when the brat doesn't take care of them right. Our stock is really more along the lines of the old dogs that are going to die on their own of old age soon enough anyway."

"Yeah, that... that's so much better. We're killing off the old and feeble ones."

"Predator." She stuck a thumb at herself. "It's kinda what we do... go watch a nature documentary sometime."

"Y'know... technically, dogs are predators."

"Smaller predators class as prey for bigger predators... and how the hell did we get so far off topic? Look, chairs. Let's go bash some zombies already."

Gnarl blinked slowly as the horde passed through the pre-prepared gate, working his way mentally through the conversation that had just happened and still ending in confusion before he simply shook his head in disgust.

xxx

"Begin log. Time is 08:13. Subject has been left partially submerged in a tub of various toxic chemicals to guage effectiveness of contact poisons... thus far subject has exhibited no more than a slight chill. For the moment, a failure. Beginning prep to test effectiveness in contact with internal organs rather than epidermis.."

Ranma snapped on a rubber glove and hefted a small chainsaw, revving it up and leaving the succubus whimpering as she attempted to wriggle away, the chains keeping her held to the table clinking with the motion. Ranma smirked and set it down.

"Psychological pre-analysis has determined that the subject is in the proper mental state for the experiment. We will begin with an incision in the abdominal-"

"Mistress! Mistress? Mistress, vhere are you?"

The scalpel in Ranma's hand bent like rubber in her clenched fist. She dropped it on the floor with a tinkle of metal against stone.

"Just one moment, dear." She hissed through clenched teeth. "End log."

The quill that had been obediently transcribing every sound in the small room came to a stop and drifted down to rest on the parchment.

The succubus relaxed marginally as her tormentor stepped out of the room. Sounds of a hushed conversation floated back in, too muffled to be properly understood. Then came a loud pair of thumps that the succubus immediately recognized as someone slamming someone else's head into a wall, followed by that person dropping back to the floor and moaning softly. Ranma stalked back into the room, obviously displeased.

"Begin log." she snarled, before composing herself. "Unfortunately, a small matter has come up, so the planned experiment must be temporarily placed on hold. Instead, a backup experiment that does not require my presence will begin now. The subject will be blindfolded." She tugged a length of cloth and a syringe out of her sleeve. "And not allowed to know the details of the experiment beforehand. End log."

She placed the blindfold and carefully injected the contents of the syringe into a vein. It took a great deal of pressure to force the tip through the demonesses thick skin. Then she stood back, disposed of the empty and damaged syringe, and threw a lever, opening a hole in the floor as the modified medical table slowly lowered through it on chains.

Ranma locked up her makeshift lab behind her as she left to change. Minutes later she was flooing into Gringotts and quickly made her way to Griphooks office, the model of a proper Pureblood young lady.

So she was neither Pureblood, proper, or lady. It was the appearance that counted.

"Ah, Griphook." She began. "We recieved your letter. Unfortunately, the others are off on urgent business, so the responsibility of whatever matter has come up has been left to me."

"Ah, indeed Ms. Saotome. A small pity-" The goblin admitted. "-As I'd really prefer to deal with Mr Potter directly. Still, I suppose there's nothing to do. Drink?"

Ranma shrugged politely and took the glass he offered, sipping at the liquid inside.

"Spiced, fermented boars blood. Humans ceased drinking it in bulk, oh, centuries ago. It is still a popular drink among Goblins, however."

To her credit, Ranma didn't even hesitate as she continued sipping daintily while Griphook quaffed his own back in a single gulp.

"And now to business. The Coliseum is coming along well, but I'm afraid that it will be another year or so before it's completion, but we have secured another temporary locale for the meantime. My job is to ascertain whether Mr Potter's team is amenable to fighting a... an 'exhibition match', so to speak."

"Hmm... what's the catch? If you wanted to talk this over with Harry personally, there must be one."

"True, too true. Unfortunately, certain 'Light' wizards have gotten wind of the event and invited themselves, including the Minister. We've already selected one part of the battle, the trouble was making sure that they were, ah... 'evil' enough."

"Oh, I see. Pandering to their point of view... a Good versus Evil showdown in the arena? All very theatric. But what makes you think that that our squad can play the part of the bad guys well enough?"

Griphook coughed lightly into his claws.

"Actually... we were rather hoping your squad could play the part of the good guys."

Ranma arched an eyebrow, then took a long drag of the blood and smirked, allowing a few droplets to trickle out of the corner of her mouth before carefully dabbing them away with a napkin.

"Well... now I know for certain that you're out of your mind, goblin. In any case, a discussion of this nature requires another drink."

It was only after many hours of planning that Ranma left the office to go home to bed.

xxx

Malfoy manor was very much resembling a subway at this point. The private mourning period was over, and now dozens of people were in and out at all hours of the day, wishing the young Head well, reminiscing about Lucius over a glass of Malfoy wine, trying to sneak out with little trinkets slipped into their pockets. Or ancient family heirlooms, same.

It never ended, and Draco was already exhausted. Also, a shower had revealed that the process had accellerated at some point and she was now almost entirely female, thus tacking a lot of mental stress onto the building load.

It was enough that Draco had actually allowed some few items to leave the Malfoy Manor and grounds. Most would be reclaimed swiftly enough, either politely or through other means. Some few of the objects, however, would dissappear entirely, including an ancient heirloom pendant, a ring that some Malfoy had taken as a trophy from the finger of a dead enemy, several tomes of lore that the Ministry would not likely have approved of the Malfoys possessing, had they known of them, and a good bakers dozen other assorted knicknacks and desk ornaments.

And one tatty old diary, that had been kept in Lucius' study under orders, but whose true properties even Lucius had never been made aware of.

xxx

The chairs had lasted about six minutes into the little trek before a clumsy minion carrying Harry's had tripped over a root and actually managed to impale itself on a chair leg from behind as it knocked over all the other nearby minions and brought down Herb's chair as well. Both, while comfortable, were unfortunately not terribly _sturdy_ pieces of furniture and had smashed apart against the ground.

Harry was just upset, muddy, and slightly bruised. Herb fully intended to kill something over it, and as the minion that had tripped in the first place was already dead, there was nothing to be done but to memorized the makers brand underneath the seats and relieve some aggression on the zombies that had just begun to notice their arrival. Within minutes of the onslaught, the supposedly fearless undead were shambling _away_ as quickly as possible.

Herb spat a large chunk of flesh out, looking disgusted.

"Ew... Blech..."

"You know, you probably should have considered how long that zombie'd been rotting _before_ you bit it. Not exactly your brightest move..."

"Bite me, Potter." She growled, rubbing at her tongue. Harry sighed and dug in his pockets for sweet of some sort, eventually tossing a lump of chocolate at her. She caught it in her mouth, forgoing her gore-streaked hands altogether, and chewed feverishly before swallowing.

"That's better."

"Right... so, where's the Hive? The sooner we find it, the sooner we can lea-_oof_!"

Harry tripped over a partially buried skeleton and tumbled head over heels to the side, where he splashed into the dirty water and disappeared. Herb considered diving in to rescue him, then considered the effect that would have on her clothes and hair. Then she reconsidered, considering what might happen if she just left him to die. She'd almost decided to jump into the water herself when he surfaced again, gasping for air.

"Gold!" He yelled, instantly getting her undivided attention as he slogged back up onto semi-solid ground. "There's gold down there... a great huge sack almost as large as I am, full of it!"

Less than a second later, Herb had dived into the brown water. It was difficult to see, what with the muck cutting visibility to inches away from her face at best, but she quickly found the sack and began working to tug it loose from the muck at the bottom. It took several minutes, but fortunately she could hold her breath much longer than could be believed due to a combination of her heritage and all the intense physical training she'd gone through.

When she did surface, dragging the sack behind her, Harry was lying on his back watching the clouds as some of the Minions used the bones of that unfortunate skeleton as makeshift weapons to drive off the zombies that had become interested again once she was no longer visible. Fortunately, they weren't all that smart or strong, as several no-longer-moving cadavers attested to, so the swarms of minions were more than a match.

She smashed a couple with the sack and the rest slowly turned tail and began to retreat at top speed. Given what that top speed actually was, it was only moments later that the minions picked off the last of them and returned to their position, several taking the sack from Herb and carting it back in the direction of the gate. They were slowed by its weight, but still more than fast enough to outrun any zombies, so there was no need to send more to guard them.

"So much gold..." Harry mumbled to himself, still staring at the clouds. "Fifteen, maybe sixteen thousand pieces at least..."

"They weren't galleons though." Herb cautioned. "So we'll have to either go through a lot of bullshit in the normal world, or give the goblins a cut before we can use it as money. But yes, that's a lot of gold."

There was a long silence. Then..

"Let's find more."

In the end, they found three more such submerged sacks before the sun began to set and they recalled the Hive that they'd come here for in the first place. They found it easily enough.

The problem was the creature that had just begun to wake up right next to it.

"Zolom." Herb hissed.

"I don't see what the problem is." Harry hissed back. "It's a snake... look, look at it, it's _a snake_. And I'm a parseltongue-"

"-And the book I read about this thing in noted, very specifically, it's propensity to go out of its way to hunt down and _eat_ the parseltongues that came across it. Not only that, but they latched onto the magical signature of the parseltongue and, if they got away, it would track them for hundreds, thousands of miles even, to kill them and everyone in the general area. It can tell you're a parseltongue by looking at you... it'll kill normal humans too, but if they get away it'll let them be. These things have a serious grudge against parseltongues, though. They're why everyone thinks that parseltongue is only in Salazar Slytherin's line... because they've killed off almost all of them!"

"... Oh."

"Yes. 'Oh'."

"So... what now?"

"We'll have to kill it." She decided solemnly. "It's starting to wake up, and it'll be able to smell us once it does, and I don't know if it can detect parseltongues just by scent or not, but I'm not betting our lives on it, so we can't just leave and come back later. We don't have time to get down there, cart the hive off, and get back out... it's almost awake. So we've got to kill it."

"Okay... I guess that makes sense. Do we have a plan?"

"No time for that either. BONSAI!" She yelled as she flipped herself over and flew straight at the behemoth, charging up a chi-blast in either hand. Harry just groaned.

"Its... It's 'Banzai'... and I'm not a fighter." He griped. "I can't just charge into this sort of thing..." He mumbled, drawing his wand and slowly standing. "...I need to plan this crap out... or I need to have a bunch of people guarding my back... Or I'll die... DAMMIT!" He howled, entering the fray himself, swarms of unarmed and unarmored minions happily charging to their death beside him.

"Incendio!"

The battle began in earnest. The drowzy, ridiculously large serpent against wave after wave of minions, a fledgeling wizard, and Herb, who deserved a category in and of herself simply for the sheer amount of damage she was inflicting upon both sides all on her own. Oh, the Minion casualties were accidents, of course... she'd not yet figured out a way to make those chi-blasts turn in midair so if you got in the way, you were toast... but there were dozens of them. And the wild thrashing of the now-injured zolom was completely destroying all the minions that got too close. It was a very large snake, after all.

And it was now fully awake.

_'Wretched Vermin!'_ it hissed, taking a moment to scarf down an extremely unfortunate minion before continuing. _'Where are you, Verminous Speaker? I know you are here... the stench you leave cannot be disguised, even by the noxious corpses that wander MY marsh as though it was their own. Come out, traitorous little Speaker! Show yourself, and I shall make your death swift and merciful. If not, I shall make you writhe in agonies untold for the wrongs your kind have wrought upon us!'_

"Okay..." Harry mumbled to himself from his hiding place behind one of the many tangled trees in this section of the marsh. "Looks like it _can_ tell by scent. Crap. 'Kay, no time for a plan... have to do this on instinct."

The zolom and Herb howled in bloodthirsty unision.

"Get your butt back _out here_ Potter!" She roared. "I need magical support, now!"

"Once more into the breach." He mumbled, before getting back up and conjuring a railroad spike, then immediately banishing it towards the zolom's head.

He'd quickly discovered that, while he knew a lot more spells, simple physical attacks were the way to go. Reducto would barely make a slight char mark on the zolom's scales and a stunning spell would fizzle out entirely. Fire had seemed effective at first, but that was quickly revealed to be an illusion as what flammable muck there was caked on the zolom's scales had burned off quickly, leaving it undamaged beneath. The spike, however, had knocked several small chips away from the scales where it struck.

He fired a spell of some sort, actually a household charm used to scour silverward, but it didn't matter because it was intentionally off target and used to set up the zolom for the next shot, which was once again a railroad spike banished into the same general area the last one had gone into, that patch of scales on the skull. The eyes were a nearly impossible shot because the thing closed them when it saw the attack comin, but this was more than good enough.

Yes. He had a plan now. The problem was, he'd also gotten the zolom's attention.

_'SPEAKER!' _it howled, far more than a ting of rage in its 'voice'. _'I see you speaker. I know you know... your scent fills my nostrils, your taste is upon my tongue. I KNOW you now, speaker... there is nowhere you can run... nowhere to hide. I will track you across WORLDS, speaker! Nowhere can you run, nowhere can you hide, that I cannot find. There is no escape, only death and one more small vengeance against ancient betrayal. But I am merciful, Speaker! Even now, call off your allies... order them to leave... submit yourself to me, Speaker, and I shall allow them to flee and kill you swiftly. This is the last offer, Speaker! Your last chance for mercy!'_

Harry answered with another pair of spikes, followed by Herb tossing a medium-sized boulder at the spot he was aiming at. Apparently she'd caught on to his plan. Good. And the zolom was _really angry_ now. Bad. He launched another spike, and was rewarded with the slightest soft crack.

_'GRAAGH!' _ it screamed as he launched two more in quick succession. _'So, little Speaker. You have chosen PAIN!'_

Suddenly, the tides of battle had turned and Harry only managed to barely dive out of the way as a serpentine tail slammed into the muck where he'd just been standing, and he continued to roll as it slammed as second and third time, following him. Herb tossed another boulder, distracting it enough for him to get back up and launch another few spikes at that patch of scales that was swiftly becoming a chink in the serpent's armor. The boulders Herb was throwing weren't doing much, though... too much surface area. He had to...

He waited for Herb to pick up the next rock, sending a gout of flame at the zolom's eyes to keep it off balance. Waited... just a few more seconds... timing had to be perfect... NOW!

He shot off the spike only a moment ahead of the boulder. It tinked, just perfectly into the center of the crack, a nearly impossible shot if he'd been trying for it on purpose instead of just shooting at that general area... And then the boulder slammed into the butt of the spike, the full weight of it slamming into the single point at the tip, over a weakened patch of armor.

The zolom let loose a wordless howl of pain and rage as it spurted blood around the deep wound, staining the boulder as it dropped to the ground. But it wasn't enough... it was wounded, and now nearly mindless in its rage, but it still hadn't fallen.

They were almost out of minions. It was unthinkable, considering the hundreds that they'd came with, but there were perhaps two dozen still alive, having been forced to learn and adapt unnaturally quickly to their enemies patterns of attack, or die. A few had pulled rusty armor or weapons off of skeletons in the marsh... most fought with their bare claws. It wouldn't be long before they were dead too.

And as he glanced to the side, the zolom had gotten its coils around him.

"AAAH!" He screamed. "Herb! Herb, finish it-"

The zolom's head snapped down and swallowed him whole. Herb nearly dropped the boulder in her hands at the sight, barely managing to shake it off as the minions went absolutely crazy, like pint-sized, really ugly berserkers. It had _eaten_ him. That... that couldn't be allowed to stand. She hurled the boulder, and flew after it at top speed in the blind spot. Even in its frenzy, the zolom instinctually knew that one more strike to the butt of the spike would finish things. It dodged the boulder easily enough.

And dodged right to where Herb wanted, leaving the embedded spike wide open for her as she slammed the butt, driving it the rest of the way through its skull and into the depths of its tender brain. This time, the screech was a death-howl, filled only with pain as the zolom toppled slowly, slamming into the muck and then growing very still. Herb waited, quietly, for something. Several minutes passed...

Nothing.

She sighed deeply and regretfully and turned to leave, but paused.

Squish.

There had been a squish of some sort, from the zolom's head... no, from it's _mouth_. Then another. She turned back. There was a third, longer squish as a patch of scales shortly past the jaw of the beast bulged slightly outwards... then a little further out. Then suddenly, scales were cracking slightly and then there was one more squish, and a loud crack.

Then a bloodstained knife poked through the scales, followed by the hand and arm holding it. The knife dropped to splat into the muck as Harry's arm flailed, before finally finding leverage to force his slime and gore coated shoulder and head through and take several deep, loud gasps of air.

"Don't-" He started, before breaking off into a hacking cough as he inhaled some of the slime and choked. "Don't know why... why I didn't think of that... before. Insides are... fleshy and vulnerable. Obvious now... in retrospect... Hehe..." He snickered, obviously exhausted.

"You're... You're alive." Herb stated, pleasantly surprised.

"Yeah... In too much pain to be dead." He admitted. "Little... little help here? Pretty shrr.. sure my other arm is broken... can't feel anything blow... below m' hips... an' I dropped my wand somewheres over there when this b'stard grabbed me." He got out, beginning to slur his words. "Th' 'dren'lin 's wearin' off... Don' think I c'n move on m' own..."

Herb quickly located and safely tucked away the wand away as the minions that had survived the battle carefully pried their master out of the zolom's carcass and set him gently on the ground. Herb looked him over.

Yes, his arm was definitely broken. And in all honesty, it was probably a good thing that he was numb from belly button down... The legs were broken in several places each, both knees were pretty much completely smashed, and there was a shard of bone poking out through his clothes in the hip. Something was definitely wrong there.

She quickly cut off his clothes, ignoring Harry's feeble protests, and did the best on-the-spot field medicry she could, privately reminding hersef to look into more chi-healing techniques and whatever magical medical techniques she could find. Harry had already been looking into those himself, but with this extent of damage he simply wouldn't be able to do much of anything on his own. They'd overlooked that.

The best she could do wasn't much. Push the bones into generally the correct shape, shove that shard back in and hope that it got back to where it was supposed to be, and squeeze the kneecap-bits together while applying a rudimentary chi-healing technique to knit the bones together and seal the wounds. It was a crude job, and he'd have to see a good healer soon, but he was in no danger of immediately falling apart.

Then she bent to Harry's ridiculous demands for modesty and wrapped him in her cloak, lifting him from the ground to hold him like an oversized infant as she directed the minions to grab that goddamn Hive and get it back to the manor, pronto.

"Y'know..." Harry mumbled, more than a little deleriously, into Herb's chest. "Usu'lly is other way roun'... guy carryin' th' blushin' bride like 'is..."

"Are you complaining?" she asked. "Because I can just as easily toss you over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes if you prefer."

He let something like a giggle and a snort loose.

"Nah, this's... this's good."

His head slumped. Either he'd fallen asleep, or he'd passed out. Herb considered that, then lifted off for better speed getting back to the gate, rather than trying to slog back all the way through the muck.

They stepped through, and Herb absentmindedly kicked Gnarl out of the way as he stepped forward to welcome them back. It was a matter of moments before they were at his room and she gently set him in bed, removed her cloak and draped a blanket over him. Then she turned around and stalked quickly back to the basement, where the gate was still running and the Hive still hadn't come through yet. Gnarl was looking pensive in a corner.

"You mentioned once, that Blues were Healers?" She asked, in a monotone.

"Well... technically, yes mistress. But you see... the thing is, newly created they're only really capable of healing other minions. It takes several years of experience before they-"

"Fine. Really, I don't care about the details. I'll be back shortly."

She selected a bag and heaved it over her shoulder, back up the stairs to the main parlor and ignored a door on the other end swing closed and the flash of red pigtail as she tossed a handful of floo powder into the blaze.

"Gringotts."

She was quite a shocking sight, she assumed by the expression on the evening client's faces as she emerged into the main lobby of Gringotts.

"Griphook." She snapped at a nearby goblin, who nodded and lead her into the bank proper.

She was almost insulted by the way grown men stepped back and their wives hid behind them. Then again, she probably looked like the creature from the black lagoon at this point. Caked with mud and blood, and carrying that ridiculously huge sack. She'd already thought this through though... Harry couldn't go to the wizarding hospital, his name was too well known. It would cause a scene and end up on the front page of the morning paper. No, this was the way to go... and she'd been quick enough that it was extremely doubtful that even anyone who was in close contact with her could recognize her, even if they'd been there. No, there would be mumbles about this, but it would carry a distinct overtone of bewildermint and secrecy. The door to Griphooks office opened.

"Yes, madam?" The unflappable goblin asked. "What may I do for... ah, Miss Musk. I take it you-"

She interrupted him by slamming the sack on his desk, scattering papers everywhere, and allowing more than a few gold coins to spill out of the mouth. Whatever he'd been planning to say, Griphook shut up about it at the sight of the gold.

"I need a healer. The best you have."

"Ah, Miss Musk... that might be a little-"

"The _BEST _you have." She grated out again. "And there's another of these in it for you if we're back at the manor in less than an hour from now." She left unsaid that the ride down to the pits itself had lasted a little more than twenty minutes last time, coming and going. Griphook immediately rose to the challenge.

"Of course, Miss Musk. Please, follow me."

xxx

A.N. Another chapter out, and this one comes much closer to the mark length that I want.

Kudos to you if you saw the word 'Zolom' and knew instantly where that fell beasty came from. Of course, I had to weaken it somewhat or it would have simply crushed the protagonists like bugs the moment it woke up. So just assume this is a juvenile, or something. Yeah.

Anyway, the last third or so of this was a breeze, compared to the first two. Just slogging through and suddenly, click, and the rest of the chapter nearly writes itself. Like always, it's not _exactly_ what I'd intended, but it's close enough that I'm not going to go back and rewrite it.


	14. Chapter 14

Honor among Thieves

Chapter 14

xxx

"Are you aware, Miss Musk," Griphook asked, making small talk in the attempt to distract her from the fact that the 'one speed only' cart was going nearly twice as fast as it normally would, "Of the magical natures of duality?"

"Of course." Herb replied. "Light and Dark, Death and Healing, Heat and Cold... those are the most common examples. Many of them are reviewed every few years, though, and the dualities are revised along with popular opinions of the time."

"Indeed... you're well read."

"I have my reasons." She demurred, and Griphook coughed lightly.

"Yes, well... the thing is, as you say, the changing perceptions of those natures. For example, your friend... the redhead. She is a budding Necromantress, is she not?"

Herb narrowed her eyes at the goblin.

"Oh no, you've nothing to fear on my part. There would be no profit to me in letting this information slip, and it would in fact cost me valuable customers... and she conceals it quite well, it took me some time indeed of studying her aura to find the traces there. The point I meant to make however was that for many hundreds of years now, wizards have considered the fields of Necromancy, or Death magics and Healing, or Life magics, as diametric opposites, when the fact of the matter is rather different."

The bedraggled Herb arched an eyebrow in response, not immediately distinguishable beneath the grime she'd not yet cleaned completely off, and Griphook continued his spur-of-the-moment lecture.

"In fact, and somewhat tied into your current errand, Necromantic spells, used properly, used to be termed 'Black Healing' and can heal a great many things that White Healing cannot, or can do so more easily than the other field. A severed limb, for example, would take a long, painful amount of time to regrow when a necromancer could simply animate the lost limb and reattach it. And with White Healing combined on top of that, the healing effect grows still further. Any necrotic decay suffered before the reattachment cannot be fixed with Black Healing, to continue the example, but a White Healer can deal with it by removing the tainted flesh, which if the patient is fortunate will be small in comparison to regrowing the whole arm, and then repair it with their own magics. It didn't happen often, of course, because of how seldom it was that a Necromancer and Healer would agree to work together."

"I see..."

"And of course this goes further." Griphook continued. "There are creatures whose entire beings are suffused with particular energies... undead and necromantic energies being the most obvious example. However, they are so suffused with it that they simply cannot use much of anything else. But what is more interesting... Have you ever heard of a Dhampyr?"

"The supposed spawn of a vampire and a mortal, bearing a great many characteristics in common with the vampire." She quoted automatically. "Usually created, however, when a pregnant woman is turned, as most vampires are actually sterile."

"Indeed. The important thing to understand is that the suffusion of the crossbreed is much less than the purestrain, so much so in fact that they can learn other varieties of magics, and a Dhampyr that has learned white and black healing will automatically and subconciously blend and reinforce both varieties.."

"Ah... Then the healer will be-"

"We're here, Miss Musk." Griphook interrupted. Herb frowned as she glanced at the small woodent door set in the wall that they'd just stopped by.

"This-"

"Is not the main Pits, no." Griphook confirmed. "This is a different section altogether, where we process newly arrived slaves, sort them, and... where we keep the ones that we do not typically intend to sell, due to sheer rarity, expense, danger, or a multitude of other factors. The best of everything is kept here."

"Cost is no object."

"I noticed that you're in a dreadful state." Griphook confided. "And the young Baron isn't accompanying you on this sudden errand for a healer. Could there be a connection, I wonder?"

"None of your concern, Goblin." Herb snapped. "Keep your mind on your paycheck alone."

"Yes, quite." He mumbled as he opened the door and led her through what could easily pass for a normal office, except for the walls being rough stone and for all of the different species, some shackled and manacled and some not. "Still, you asked for our best healer, and so our best you shall have."

"A Dhampyr?"

Griphook snorted in disgust.

"No. Like I said, Dhampyrs are exceptionally good healers... but you've asked for the _best_. And there are many creatures far more steeped in those undead energies than even the most powerful and ancient vampire. The most common of halfbreeds have names, and become individual species in and of their own right... there are crossbreeds that are far more rare, and even unique. One such..."

Griphook paused next to a wall and bit the tip of one long, clawed finger open and delicately traced an elaborate rune in thick, black goblin blood. The wall hummed and strands of smaller, previously invisible runes lit up as the stones shifted into a heavily warded archway, the door chained shut. Griphook held out a hand and one of the attendees dropped a ring of keys into it. One by one, he used every key and left a rather large pile of padlocks on the ground and a very long uncoiled chain. He handed the keys off and Herb noticed that there were glyphs carved into both the chain and the door itself as well as the arch.

"Stand back..."

Griphook carefully pressed at a series of specific spots on door and, with a rumble, it creaked open revealing a very dimly lit room.

"Greetings goblin." Came a soft, sweet yet inexplicably unpleasant voice, like honey mingled with a few drops of oil that had only just begun to rot. "Have you brought another patient for me to repair? Or perhaps a poor soul for whom there is only one mercy remaining... Ah? A visitor...."

A shadowy figure rose with a clinking of chains.

"I see... a great and powerful beast of magical skies, wrapped within a fragile skin. Am I, perhaps, to have a new cellmate then?"

"A customer, rather." Griphook demurred.

There was a short silence, followed by a slow rustle.

"Cus-to-mer." The being in the darkness spoke, drawing it out as though testing, or tasting, the word. "Then I am to leave this place...? While quite homey and familiar... it does get rather boring, I'm afraid, looking at the same side of the door every day."

"As though you could see it at all..." Griphook mumbled, not quite softly enough.

"Not see... Blind?"

"Ah... something like that."

"I see, and yet I do not see." Came the voice again. "And my sight is perfect, but what I have cannot truly be called sight, can it?"

"Enough of your riddles and meandering speech, crossbreed." Griphook snapped. "Step into the light."

There was another long pause, then a slow clink of chains as the shadowy figure began walking softly forward, giving the impression of floating or gliding. Details became apparrent, first a vague impression of femininity, followed by the chains and rags. Then it was the fact that the gray tone to the crossbreeds skin was no illusion, it really was a bluish-gray, as was her hair. And then the most notable detail.

"You've no eyes." Herb deadpanned.

"Oh dear, you noticed. Whatever shall I do?"

Herb ignored the sarcasm and turned aside.

"What... exactly-?"

"A very Dark Witch held in Azkaban was one of the parents. Her foulness and madness attracted the attention of the creatures that guards the place, sufficiently similar to the females of the species that more than a few were enticed to... make the attempt to breed."

"Please, Goblin." The crosbreed held up a hand, looking more than mildly disquieted by the current discussion. "I truly do prefer not to think about the specifics of the act of my creation. On either parties behalf."

"Quite. Now, as for the transaction..."

Griphook rattled off a number that would leave even most better than averagely well off wizard families starving for years. It would hurt the Musk accounts severely... fortunately, their recent business ventures had been exceedingly profitable.

"As I said before... cost is no object."

xxx

Petunia had spent the past few days in something of a daze. First Vernon had gone all shifty all of a sudden, and taken a day off work to go on some sort of errand that he'd refused to discuss. He hadn't returned. She'd later found that he'd been in a terrible driving accident. Grunnings had offered full benefits in the face of the terrible loss... at first, anyway. It hadn't been long before the autopsy determined the overwhelming levels of alcohol in the blood that had remained in Vernon's body.

Apparently the insurance covered Vernon being caught up in a drunk driving accident, but _not_ actually being the drunk driver.

The benefits had been canceled, and Petunia had been stunned at the news. Then things had escalated with a double whammy... Grunnings had noticed something off in Vernon's work and discovered that he'd been embezzling funds for nearly a decade. Aside from that, Dudley had finally realized the situation and had thrown a fit and attacked a much smaller child. It had taken some very persuasive words before the parents had agreed not to press charges.

And then had come a final, completely unexpected straw to break the camel's back. It seemed that Number Four, the house she had _thought_ they'd owned, had actually been payed for by an anonymous loan from her freak sister's family, and had been expected by the intermediaries to be repaid. Bill collecters had come, made all the worse both because of the situation, and because she knew full well what the horrid little creatures were behind their illusions.

She and Dudley had quickly been evicted from their home, with almost nothing left to them. They'd had to prevail upon the kindness of Vernon's sister, the dog-breeder. Marge had been more than happy to take Dudley in... unfortunately, she hadn't been nearly so pleased about housing Petunia. There had always been some measure of dislike between the two women, put on hold when Vernon was there to see, and his death had set it back up to full bore on Marge's part. Petunia suspected that it would have been a similar situation on her part, except that the following blows had diminished her willpower more than a bit.

She was learning what it was like to be an unwanted houseguest, and she didn't like it at all. Which was why, exhausted, she had quickly turned to the one source for aid that she would never have considered in any ordinary circumstances.

Dumbledore slowly stroked his long, white beard, eyes twinkling at full blast.

"I see... a tragedy, of course, for the life of a loved one to end so suddenly and unexpectedly. I offer you my condolences."

"Please..." Petunia moaned softly, before getting ahold of herself. "Spare me the condolences. I've had my fill of them recently. I..." She worked her mouth for a moment, before grimacing. "I need... help. I married Vernon early, in an effort to spite my parents for preferring Lily." She admitted in an unusual show of honesty about her family history. "But that meant that I never had the opportunity to learn any marketable skills, and..." she trailed off in disgust.

"Petunia... what exactly is it you are asking of me?" Dumbledore wondered aloud, arching one bushy brow theatrically. In truth he already knew full well that the woman was seeking at best a loan, and at worst a source of handouts for the rest of her life, and was calculating furiously behind the facade.

xxx

Sistilth had begun to develop a cramp in her tail from sitting coiled on Harry's chest. Then again, she rationalized, he wasn't moving much and was effectively a big, warm cushion at this point. The bit of her mind that was still completely human after the protracted transformation raised some some sort of indistinct, fractured protest, and was duly ignored by the majority.

And on the plus side, her weight prevented him from moving in his comatose slumber, which would have aggravated his wounds. A win-win situation.

In his dreams, Harry had once more returned to the realm of shifting colors and unearthly resonating voices. This time, however, he had been there for a long time as the voices argued indistinctly around him.

In all honesty, it was really boring. He'd nearly drifted off several times, and likely would have if he hadn't actually been aware he was asleep and dreaming at the time. In due time, he was bored and irritated enough to interrupt.

"Hey... hey! Yeah, you... the dream-voices, or whatever you are. If there's no reason for me to be here, I'm just going to leave."

There was a sudden sense of looming about him.

_Little mortal, be still._

_We are neither patient nor kind by nature._

_This choice has been held off for long enough._

_Make a choice._

_Choose wisely._

_Choose NOW._

_You shall not wake until choice is made._

"Decide, decide, decide. I'll tell you now that I'm not making any decisions until I know what I'm supposed to be deciding on!"

_Your inability to learn the terms before entering into a contract is none of our concern, mortal._

"Oh yeah?" A vein pulsed lightly in Harry's forehead. "Well how about this! My decision is to choose none of you. I don't know what's going on, but if you're not going to give me the information I need to base that decision you want so badly on, then I want none of it!"

_Ha! Good answer, lad._

There was something like a soft rustling and a whisper of wind over still waters, then silence for a moment.

_Bugger the lot of you sods!_

More indistinct hissing followed.

_Look, even if he doesn't get what's going on, his own words mark him as one of mine... And I have seniority! The pantheon I belong to ascended long before any of you runts was a sparkle in your pappie's eye._

There was some grumbling, but Harry got the general feeling of an unhappy acceptance of the surly sounding voices' decision. Then the voices started up again.

_Taste the fruits of hidden knowledge and rejoice, mortal._

There was a feeling that, if described, would make a sound rather like Splk-wurmpthz as a lumpy mass of information was crudely stuffed into the confines of his skull. His eyes snapped open and focused on the snake sleeping on his chest before he began to register the sheer overwhelming agony that came from his tensed muscles, winced, and relaxed them.

"Hephaes..." he mumbled, eyes crossed.

He closed his eyes and drifted back off into slumber, hoping that he would have _norma_l dreams for once.

xxx

"Round this way, take it to the courtyard for now so it can be rendered down and brought to my labs. Get moving you dumb clods... no need to be gentle with it, it's dead for one, and that hide can take a lot more than a few bumps and scrapes."

After waking, Ranma had heard of the ill-fated little expedition from Gnarl, and had become interested in the Zolom. There would most certainly be some experimentation in the near future. And speaking of experimentation, there was that other matter...

She entered the labs, closing the door behind her and flipping a few switches before setting up the animated quill to a sheaf of parchment.

"Testing... one, two, one-two.... goood. Time is 11:27. Subject has been subjected to a compound previously shown to amplify tactile sensation and immersed in the pit with innumerable undead insectile, arachnid, and serpentine specimens. These... for lack of a better word, creepy-crawlies, have been mentally programmed to remain in a state of constant motion, and to bite and sting at regular, timed intervals. Subject is impressively resilient, however, and so I suspect that there will be little, or no physical damage to consider. It will be interesting to note the Subject's mental state, however."

Ranma tugged a lever and waited as the platform slowly cranked its way up out of the pit.

"It has been approximately fifteen hours since the Subject's initial immersion. Subject appears exhausted and..." Ranma's nose wrinkled as she took a sniff. "Subject has soiled itself. Repeatedly."

She removed the blindfold and peeled back the succubus's eyelid, shining a ray of light into the glazed eye.

"Pupils are dilated, and subject is nonresponsive to visual stimuli."

Ranma released the eyelid and opened the demonesses mouth, tugging out its tongue to full extension and inspecting it minutely.

"Mouth is dry, and tongue seems to have been bitten multiple times, by both insects and the Subject itself. Subject appears to be mildly dehydrated as well."

Ranma frowned and stepped back, lifting a small rod to poke at the succubus in apparently random places, producing twitches and involuntary muscle spasms. After a minute, she was apparently satisfied with whatever results she had garnered and set it back down.

"It appears that at some stage of the experiment, the combined venoms mingled with the previously injected compound within Subject's bloodstream to form some sort of aphrodisical poison. Time will have to be set aside to attempt to recreate the mixture under more controlled conditions. Aside from that, this experiment appears to be an overwhelming success. End log."

The quill came to a rest and Ranma stretched idly, finally taking note of the gibbering at the door.

"Alright Minions! Get me samples of hide, venom, blood, bone, and muscle tissue from that Zolom, then get the organs out and put them in the preserving vats so I can deal with them later. As for this specimen, have the Blues drag it across the pond a couple of times, then chain it upside down to the wall over there and set up a dropcloth beneath it."

The malevolent little monsters rushed to obey, cackling quietly as they went.

xxx

"Hrothgar bored." The incredibly large, hairy man stated. It wasn't until several awkward seconds had passed that Gloin realized that there was a silent question of 'how are we going to solve this dilemma' that came part and parcel with the statement and stopped sharpening his axe.

"Aye, lad? And what are ye expecting me to do about that."

Hrothgar shrugged absently.

"Well, ye done all your work for the day?"

"Hrothgar work good. Shovel stables, move boxes, sweep floors, hold down vampire for punch in face. Good!"

The Count stalked into the room, holding his cheek gingerly as he picked up a flagon of something and sat in the furthest corner of the room from them.

"Aye... I take it the count's been making unwanted propositions again. So what do ye do for fun then?"

"Drink! But Hrothgar bored with drinking."

Gloin stared for a moment, almost completely incapable of comprehending that one could actually grow _bored_ of drinking.

"So lad... ye not got any other hobbies, then?"

"Hrothgar like fight!"

Gloin nodded.

"Heard through the grapevine that they're arranging another arena match for us. Might be a bit, though...."

"Hrothgar bored _now_!"

Gloin knocked back what was left of his flagon of.... whatever it was he'd poured into it fifteen minutes ago. He eyed it curiously for a moment before forcing his mind back on track.

"Nothing else you like, then?"

"Hrothgar like work."

"Ye just said that ye finished your work already. Focus, lad."

"Hrothgar.... Hrothgar like pillage houses and burn things!"

"Eh... that might be a bit..."

The drow butler seemed to appear out of nowhere to clap her hand to Hrothgar's shoulder.

"If you want something to do, Mistress Herb has expressed a desire for sweets. I believe there's a small village a mile or two away that has one of those magical candyshops."

"RAAGH! Hrothgar make raid for candies!"

Grabbing his sword, the barbarian rushed from the room, leaving Gloin behind. After a moment of consideration, he decided that he was definitely nowhere near inebriated enough to properly handle the sudden turn of events.

Minutes later, after downing another two flagons of what had turned out to be an ale of some sort, Pfil stuck her head in through the outer door.

"Um... excuse me... Do any of you know what Hrothgar's doing?"

Muttered grunts to the negative.

"Uh... it's just... he's sort of stripped down to a fur loincloth and boots, smeared himself with some sort of warpaint, and charged past the property boundaries. Just, uh... just so that you know."

Moments later, two horses had been outfitted and The Count, Gloin, and Pfil were galloping after the wayward berserker.

"Dat BORON id goig to ged ud in drubble!" the Count growled through a nose that had been broken enough times that it hadn't yet fully healed.

"More than ye already got into yourself?"

"Id wad jut a thimble tuggedsion! How wad I to know de Bizdress would reagt zo biolently?"

"Firsthand experience, you would think..." Pfil mumbled in what was meant to be an aside, but all parties clearly overheard.

"Nebber bind dad! Why didden _you_ ztob hib den? You bere sidding righd nexd do hib!"

"This is _not my_ fault, you hear, and none of ye are pinning the blame for this'n on me! _I_ was drunk! Am still drunk! Will continue to be drunk for the foreseeable future! As such, I cannot be held responsible for my reaction speed not being up to par!"

"Um... You seem pretty lucid to me, Gloin..."

"Dwarf, lass."

Really, that was all the comeback he needed.

xxx

The creature desired to be called _Annabelle_, of all things. Herb had been prepared for a whole lot of possible names, but that had just taken her completely by surprise, for some reason. Likely because if you thought of the name 'Annabelle', it conjured to mind rosy cheeked milkmaids or some such, not... well, not _Annabelle_, to be perfectly frank.

On the other hand, it scarcely mattered what she wanted to be called as long as she put Harry back together properly.

Annabelle carefully nudged at the disgruntled serpent on Harry's chest until it removed itself, hissing something doubtlessly foul as it went, then removed the blanket.

"Hmm... my, my. The boy certainly is a mess, isn't he? What happened?"

"He was swallowed whole by a large, angry reptile."

"Oh. Well that makes sense. Good thing it didn't stop to chew, hmm? Let's see... first, a sedative to keep him unconscious."

She mumbled something and her hand began to glow a soft blue as she set it to Harry's forehead.

"Oh... this should probably be dealt with at some point, too." She decided, prodding at the famous scar. "Things like that have a habit of erupting into nastiness at the worst possible time, I understand."

"Things like that? Scars?"

"Oh no... I mean the bit of someone's soul that's bound there by the scar. Foul bastard, from the smell of it. Good thing he's never been to Azkaban, or I daresay there would be a great many more like me."

Herb quirked the corner of her mouth slightly.

"By 'he' do you mean Potter, or whoever that bit of soul came from?"

"Eh... either-or, really. It would have taken a bit longer for him than for the other guy for the Dementors to become interested enough to... eh, you know... but it would happen eventually."

Herbs almost-smirk disappeared.

"I... thought you were joking, to be honest."

"Nah. Still, it's going to take some work to fix him even without taking that into account, and the odds are good that he'll never meet a real Dementor anyway, so it shouldn't hurt anything to put it off."

Herb shrugged and left the room, honestly disinterested in the process by which Harry was going to be put back together. Okay, slightly interested, but that interest paled in comparison to the growling of her stomach, which had been ignored for some time in favor of other concerns.

xxx

In all the hustle and bustle about the castle, Quirrel's predations upon the unicorn herd in the forest had somehow been overlooked. As such, there were a couple of corpses that had been discarded after the magical blood had ceased to trickle freely from the gaping wounds.

Usually, it wouldn't matter much, as unicorns would not decay naturally and there were very few things that would scavenge their corpses, meaning that they would just sit there until Hagrid was alerted to their existence and dragged them out to be incinerated. After Dumbledore and Severus had all the usable bits excised, anyway.

On the other hand 'very few things' was not at all the same as 'nothing'. After all, even knowing the curse it brought, there were always a few souls willing to slay a unicorn for its blood. And enough hunger would make almost anything turn its eyes to fare that it would normally never even consider.

It was small for its breed, the runt of its hatching, and female to boot. Such an unfortunate combination would have guaranteed its culling and subsequent relocation to the stomachs of her hatchmates, had it not also had the extreme good fortune to be the first to hatch, giving it enough time to achieve full motion and cognitive ability and then make its escape as the rest of the brood hatched.

The problem was that acromantulae were not well liked by the other denizens of the forest, and with more than good reason. None would dare make an assault on the main nest, and large groups were avoided because of just how difficult it was to tell _exactly_ how large those groups might be, but a loner? A young and runty one, no less?

Out of neccessity, it had learned to hunt in a different way than the norm, lying in wait from concealment and moving very slowly, rather than the customary 'spin a web, go on a rampage, and store the kills in it for later consumption' technique. It wasn't as effective, but it was completely incapable of normal measures and so made do.

But when there was an availably source of meat just lying there on the ground, like a gift of providence, how could it do anything _but_ stuff itself silly?

The thing was, while acromantulae were not picky about their food at even the best of times, even they had their reasons to avoid eating unicorns. Kill them, yes, if they could. Eat them, no. None even remembered why that was, considering how very long it had been since it had last happened, but there was a very strong taboo on it passed down through the colonies.

Not that it knew any of this, of course.

After a short time, lethargy set in and it scuttled to a hollow below a large tree and drifted into slumber, blissfully unaware of the changes and magical reactions happening within its body at that very moment.

xxx

"All done." Annabelle chirped cheerfully. Harb chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed the mouthful of mutton, sparing a moment to pass along the rest of the meat to Lyme, who had grown to the size of either a very large dog, or a very small horse. Soon, he would be large and strong enough to use as a mount.

But that was unimportant at the moment, she reflected as she scratched at Mint's scalp. As always, he seemed not to have the slightest idea how to respond to the attention correctly.

"He looks better." She decided aloud. "Well done. When do you think you can deal with the... thingy... in his forehead."

"Oh, there's no rush, is there? His body has been put back together, but he's going to be very... fragile, for lack of a better word, for the next week or two. I'd advise waiting at least a month, to give him time to rest and recuperate from his ordeal before we start on that."

Herb shrugged and did _something_ with her fingers around Mint's ears that somehow left him wanting to wag his tail and drool. He wasn't sure how that was possible, and frankly he didn't _want_ to know. It was difficult enough to keep from fidgeting _without_ that knowledge.

"Hmm... In any case, there should be no ill effects as long as he has no contact with Dementors? We can afford to wait then. On another topic entirely, is it common for nonhumans to learn the sort of magic taught at Hogwarts?"

"Not at all. It's not uncommon for them to be _capable_, of course, although I myself have been tested and am incapable of more than healing magics, and some things passed along from my nature. Even so, due to a number of factors, it's actually quite rare that a nonhuman attends such an institution."

"Oh? What sort of factors."

"Well... discrimination, for one. Special needs, dietary requirements and whatnot." Annabelle shrugged, hidden chains clinking slightly. "A werewolf, for example, would require special arrangements once a month. There's also the possibility that attendance would require the approval of an elder of the species. In all honesty, if a nonhuman intends to learn wand-magics then it's usually far simpler and more efficient to purchase the services of tutors sworn to silence."

There was a small pause, in which Annabelle somehow gave the creepy illusion of a slow blink.

"Why, exactly, do you ask?"

Herb tugged a pair of envelopes from somewhere about her person.

"No particular reason. It's simply that when Klinky brought my attention to the mail, these caught my eye. Hogwarts acceptance letters. One is for my little Mint here." She rustled his hair fondly. "The other, interestingly enough, is addressed to Harry's pet snake."

Sistilth, who was coiled up on a cushion nearby, instantly snapped awake.

xxx

A.N. Shorter than standard, I'm afraid. Surprised I managed to finish this chapter, given that I was just tinkering with it in between preparations for the final exams.

New Character! Annabelle. I, uh... I have no explanation for this. Sorry. She may be the spawn of Bellatrix Lestrange, or she might be the get of some other equally or even more foul witch. Haven't decided yet. Probably depends on what her age ends up being- younger than Harry, and she's Bella's. Older, and the name she chose is just coincidence.

Also, kudos for those who know where I'm going with the Acromantula runt. If you figure it out, please let me know, because I'm frankly stumped.


End file.
